


En Prise

by RainyJane



Series: Opponents in Chess [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Natasha plays matchmaker, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Rogue Avengers, Wanda and Vision reunite, because apparently I can't stop writing these
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 37,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22857556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyJane/pseuds/RainyJane
Summary: The Rogue Avengers are on the run, sneaking around the world to evade the international authorities hunting them, aided and abetted by a mysterious benefactor.
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Series: Opponents in Chess [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804642
Comments: 92
Kudos: 82





	1. Eval

**Author's Note:**

> En Prise: a chess term describing a piece in a position to be taken.
> 
> Eval: chess shorthand for "evaluation."

The windows of their room gave an expansive view of Cairo, currently bathed in a rusty glow from the sunset. It would be dark soon, and it was too risky to use any form of artificial light, so Wanda and Scott would have to finish their game of chess soon, or they'd have to resume it in the morning.

She shifted her eyes from the window back to the board. If she pulled her knight forward, would he notice it would leave her rook vulnerable to his queen? He was a decent chess player: a bit impetuous, but also incredibly sharp.

She decided to take the risk.

Steve, Nat, and Clint were playing cards on the floor nearby. Their conversation had drifted into the assignments they'd done for S.H.I.E.L.D., and speculation about which of them might have been ordered by HYDRA.

"Oh, and I was sent to assassinate Bogdan Utkin, but he died before I could get to him, so that doesn't really count," Clint said.

"Really? I met him once, shortly before his death. He seemed like an okay guy, for a professional blackmailer, though a little too assertive for my taste," Nat said.

"What did he die of?" Steve asked.

"Heart failure, the poor old thing."

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Really? I heard it was multiple stab wounds to the back."

"That's what doctors call a contributing precondition," she stated.

Scott snorted, indicating he'd been paying more attention to their conversation than the game.

"Your move," Wanda reminded him. She already knew what her next move would be, and was getting impatient.

Scott didn't notice her exposed rook and moved his queen forward. "Check."

She pulled a pawn up to block. For a second, she had an acute wave of missing Vision. He never would have overlooked her exposed rook.

But she would probably never play chess with him again.

She pushed those thoughts away.

Scott pulled his queen forward, preparing to put her in check again. She moved her knight into position.

Suddenly she felt a change in the mood of the room. Someone was rippling concerned confusion. She glanced up. Everyone looked the same, no one's expressions revealed the disturbance.

But Nat had just looked at her phone.

Wanda moved her bishop across the board. "Check."

"Huh?" He examined the board and saw what she'd just pulled. "Huh."

She had him on the run for the rest of the game, checkmating him in a few more moves.

"Good game," he said, flashing a smile that managed to be boyishly innocent and smarmy at the same time. "Want to play again?"

"We don't have time," she said, waving toward the window with its fading light.

Sam arrived with dinner a minute later, as Wanda and Scott were clearing the chessboard.

"Who won?" he asked.

"Wanda. She murdered me."

"She has a bad habit of doing that. I think Vision's the only one who regularly beats her."

Wanda looked at Nat, wondering if she would contradict him, but the spy didn't seem to be listening.

"Nat and I are pretty equally matched," she said.

"I can only beat you when we've been drinking, or when you're severely sleep deprived," Nat said.

Of course, being severely sleep deprived was Wanda's normal state these days.

"What's for dinner?" Steve asked.

"Shwarma."

By the time they'd finished dinner, it was dark. The men soon turned in for the night. It was Wanda's habit to stay up reading—by the light of the moon when the moon was out, or by streetlight if they were staying in a place where a streetlight shined in—until she fell asleep with book in her hand. Closing her eyes to sleep was when the memories came.

It had been nearly a month since Steve rescued them from the Raft prison, but the fear was still there, right beneath the surface—the panic, the memories, the straitjacket, the shock collar, alone in an empty cell, days and days without seeing a human face, never seeing daylight...

The place she'd be sent back to if they were caught.

Tonight it was too dark to read, so she sat at the window looking out at the lights of the city for a while.

Natasha wasn't sleeping either.

Wanda couldn't hear people's thoughts, she could usually only pick up their strong emotional states. Nat's mind was calculating as if she was playing a chess game.

Wanda left the window and stood by her. "What is it?" she whispered. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Nat started, trying to reassure her before changing her mind and deciding to be honest instead. "I'm not sure."

"What happened?"

"There's a darkweb message board I check, one I was familiar with from my...previous career. Job offers of the strictly cash and no-real-names variety."

"Okay." For internationally wanted fugitives, money was a concern. They needed cash for food, fuel for the Quinjet, and bribes. The men did odd jobs in remote corners of the world now and then, but Nat had been their main breadwinner, sometimes slipping off for days at a time and returning with enough to keep them going for a few more weeks.

"Tonight I saw this, sent to my private inbox." She handed Wanda her phone.

_There are those of us who remember the great debt we owe you, and wish to show our appreciation to you in your hour of need. If you are able to make it to the following address at 23.00, 19 July, there will be a briefcase containing €40000 waiting for you._

"This address is in Vilnius," Wanda noted.

"Lithuania, one of the few European countries that isn't a signatory of the Sokovia Accords. Makes it apparently less likely to be a trap."

"But you think it is a trap?"

"I don't know. The wording of this message is weird. It's dissociative. It's like whoever wrote it learned how to send secret messages from reading bad spy thrillers."

"It is weird that there's no hint who wrote it."

"That's not the weirdest thing," Nat said.

"What's the weirdest thing?"

"No one who even knows about that site should have been able to guess that screen name is me."

"Weird."

"Yes."

"What are you going to do?" Wanda asked.

"I don't know."

"Want me to go with you? I could get a read, and help out if things go bad."

Nat shook her head, her expression saying she'd already considered that idea. "If it's not a trap, it will be a dead drop, and there will be no one there for you to read. If it is a trap, it will be rigged to spring for all of us, and I'll have a better chance of getting out alone."


	2. Tabia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tabia: key position at the beginning of a chess game at which the expected opening moves transition to a greater range of possible moves, when the game really begins.

The address from the mysterious message had led Natasha to a narrow alley between shops in Vilnius' Old Town. She'd been staking the spot out for hours, of course. The narrow alley would make it a good place for an ambush, but she hadn't seen any sign of snipers or other special forces types setting up.

As the night deepened, fewer and fewer pedestrians passed by. At precisely one hour before midnight, a small car drove into the alley. A man got out of the driver's seat and set a briefcase down next to a wall. Nat took some quick photos, but it was dark, and the man wore a driver's uniform with a hat pulled low, obscuring his face. She could tell he was tall and light-haired, but nothing else.

He quickly got back in the car and drove away. She memorized the licence plate

The man had handled the briefcase, and hadn't rigged anything—she'd been watching closely—so if it was a bomb, it wasn't motion-activated.

It was not the dead drop she'd been expecting.

She examined the latches and hinges for alterations. Finding none, she opened the case, finding several bundles of €50 notes. She emptied them into a bag she'd brought and left the briefcase in the alley. She would examine each stack for concealed tracking devices before reuniting with the others.

* * *

The safehouse in Kaliningrad had a glow-in-the-dark sticker shaped like the planet Saturn in the window, which was the pre-arranged signal that it was safe to enter.

Steve led the way, opening the door without knocking.

Nat was sitting on an old sofa, stacks of cash on the old coffee table in front of her.

"So it wasn't a trap," Scott said.

"Doesn't look like it," she said, her brow creased with a pensive frown.

"Do you know who sent it?" Clint asked.

She shook her head. "I think the driver knew I would see him. The car was a rental from Vilnius International Airport, but there was no record of it being rented out at that time, so it was either stolen and returned before anyone noticed, or someone bribed someone to not record it. There were no explosive devices, no tracking devices, I wasn't followed after I grabbed the cash."

"Maybe we have an ally," Sam said.

"Or an enemy playing a long con. The bills are unmarked and non-sequential. Untraceable."

"This is going to really help us," Steve said. "But you don't look completely happy about it."

"It really bugs me to not know where this money came from, or who's behind it. And I hate the idea that we may never know."


	3. En Passant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> En passant: A pawn which has moved two spaces forward on its opening move can be taken by an adjacent pawn as if it had only moved a single space. This is the only move in chess where one piece can take another without moving into its space.

Hiding out in an old abandoned mining town in the mountains of Chile had been nice for a few days. It was scenic, and quiet.

But it was getting _too_ quiet. Wanda needed distractions. Distractions _other_ than Sam deciding it was a good time for another PTSD therapy session.

They were sitting on a boulder by a stream a little outside the town, a spot where Clint and Scott weren't likely to wander close enough to overhear them. Steve and Nat were away on a supply run.

"I'm fine. Really," Wanda said, looking not at Sam but at the rocky, snow-covered mountains that towered over the town. "I haven't had a flashback in over a week."

"It's not just the flashbacks you need to worry about. We got to keep on top of the anxiety and depression."

"I've been doing that. I've been doing my exercises and meditation..."

"Have you been having nightmares?"

She didn't answer.

"Did you get any sleep at all last night?"

"Why do you think that?"

"The lines around your eyes, how much coffee you had this morning, and..." He paused for a beat before finishing, "I heard you crying when I got up to pee at three a.m."

She looked away, embarrassed that he'd heard her.

"Hey, it's fine. It's a good sign that you can still feel enough to cry. Want to talk about it?"

His tone told her what he'd verbally assured her many times: she didn't have to talk about it if she didn't feel ready. He said talking about trauma could be like pulling off a bandaid: it had to happen sometime, but if you weren't healed enough for it, it could reopen the wound.

"I don't know," she said honestly. She knew Sam wouldn't judge her, and would never tell anyone else the things she talked about with him, but she cared about Sam's opinion of her. She didn't want him to think of her as weak or scared, or that she was wallowing in self-pity. "Last night I tried to fall asleep, but I just couldn't get my thoughts to quiet down."

"What were you thinking about?"

She shrugged. "Everything that happened. What I should have done different."

"What do you think you should have done different?"

"I don't know."

He gave her a look. She knew he didn't buy that. "We all did what we could, what we thought was best at the time. Could we have done things better if we had more time to plan? Probably. But Monday morning quarterbacking isn't going to help anyone."

"I know," she said. "But I can't help thinking about it. I can't help feeling all this guilt and regret."

"What do you feel guilty about?" he asked gently.

She looked up at the mountains again. Some large bird rose from a high peak and soared, seemingly motionless, against the bright blue sky and feathery clouds. She wished she were up there flying with it.

"What I did to Vision," she admitted. "What I did to him when I left the compound with Clint."

"Vision was keeping you under house arrest illegally. He was denying you your right to leave."

"He was just doing that because Stark told him to. He thought he was keeping me safe."

"Whatever he did it for, it was wrong. You had every right to leave, and to use force when he tried to stop you."

"I hurt him," she said.

"Vision? He was fine. He's pretty much indestructable."

She shook her head vaguely. "When we were in Lima, I... I was reading this online forum that was talking about the Avengers' split..."

"I told you not to go reading things like that," he chided her.

"I know. But the people posting...they were supporting our side, mostly. They said the Sokovia Accords were unfair, that it turned the Avengers into a political tool, that Stark was irresponsible and reckless, and he was really the only one who needed to be put in check. But then..." She took a sharp breath. Tears tickled at her eyes just from remembering what she'd read.

"Then what?"

"They started saying...Stark had made Ultron. He was so crazy and irresponsible that he made robots with artificial intelligence, that artificial intelligence is the biggest danger to human survival, and that Stark was a monster for bringing Vision to life. They said...things like that Vision should be destroyed, he should be shut down, melted down in a volcano. The way they were talking about him like he was just a machine they could switch off, like he didn't deserve any rights. They didn't care who he is or what he's done, just that he's not human, he's synthetic, so he should be destroyed." A single choked sob escaped her throat as tears rolled down her cheeks. "I wanted to say something. I wanted to scream at them. But I didn't say anything, because I _couldn't_ say anything without saying I know him, and they might figure out who I am. So I said nothing. I just let them..."

"I'm sorry. But not engaging with them was the right call."

"I wanted to kill them, Sam. I wanted to track down the people who would say that and kill them. But, I mean, am I any better than them? Vision supported the Sokovia Accords because he thought we needed to accept oversight on our power; I felt like the Accords were aimed at me, a special set of rules written just for me, because of what HYDRA turned me into. And maybe I felt like...when Vision supported the Accords and tried to keep me from leaving the Compound, part of me felt like maybe he thought that about me too. It didn't even occur to me that, whatever the world sees me as, it's even worse for him. The Accords were written for him too. And now he has to face the world alone. He's got no one on his side. Rhodes is gone, and who knows if Stark is even talking to Vision after the accident. And he doesn't know him like we do. Sure, he helped bring him to life, but we're his _friends._ And now he's alone, because of me."

"He made the choice to support the Accords. When you left with Clint, he could've gone with you."

Wanda wrapped her arms around herself. She could have asked him, but she knew he wouldn't have gone. They both had their beliefs. And she couldn't very well have abandoned Steve when he needed her. She couldn't have just refused her duty and remained in house arrest just so she could stay with Vision.

But part of her wished she had.

* * *

Natasha and Steve landed the Quinjet in the abandoned mining town, and quickly joined the others in the relative warmth of the building that had once been the town's bar.

Nat looked the team over. She and Steve had officially shared leadership of the Avengers since Tony went into semi-retirement after Ultron, but their dynamic had changed since they'd been on the run. While they all looked to Steve for moral guidance and pep talks, when it came to actual decisions, Nat usually had the final say. Without anyone saying it out loud, everyone seemed to acknowledge the master spy as the de facto leader. When she said it was time to find a new hideout, no one argued. They deferred to her judgment on who they should or shouldn't trust.

Their safety and freedom were in her hands. That bothered her at the moment, when she legitimately wasn't sure what to do.

"What's the news?" Clint asked.

"Empanadas for dinner," Steve said.

Scott lit up at that. "Nice!"

"And Nat got a message about another money drop," he added.

They all looked at her curiously.

"Same person as before, based on the wording of the message," she said. "It said there would be a delivery of one million yen at midnight on August 28th, in Hakodate, Japan."

"How much is that?" Wanda asked.

"About ten thousand dollars," Scott answered.

"The timing's weird," Clint noted.

Nat nodded. "It's too soon. They would know the money they gave us before hasn't run out yet, we aren't getting desperate, so we have no reason to take the risk."

"We should think it over," Steve said. "If it's a trap, we should all be close by when you do the pickup. If it is a gift..." He shrugged. "If we don't accept it, we're not likely to get another."

"I don't like the idea of someone feeling like we're in their debt," Clint said thoughtfully.

"I'm less concerned about that than a trap by Ross or the U.N.," Nat said. "But this doesn't feel like Ross, and..."

"And what?" Steve asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing. This just makes no sense."

At that moment, she made her decision. It was true that they didn't need the money at the moment, but she needed information. Whatever happened when she went to the rendezvous, it would give her more clues about who was behind those messages.


	4. Countergambit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Countergambit: an attempt by Black to gain greater control of the board early in the game, often by sacrificing a pawn.
> 
> Author's notes: I went back and changed the timeline after realizing I really didn't want to send the team to sneak around Hokkaido in the middle of winter (avoiding leaving footprints in snow would overcomplicate Natasha's rendezvous with the mysterious stranger). This is now the middle of summer, about 3 months after the events of Captain America: Civil War.
> 
> I'm going to put way more travel and sightseeing in this story than I originally intended, because I'm cooped up at home and had to cancel a long-planned vacation and am suffocating with frustrated wanderlust.

The best advice Nat had ever gotten from a martial arts instructor was to never do what your enemy expected. Meditating on that, she had calculated that if whoever had sent the messages _were_ planning an ambush, they would assume that she would suspect it. Consequently, they would expect her to take measures to limit the risk, such as arrive in the city as close to the appointed time as possible.

So instead, they had arrived several day before. Over those days, she'd taken each member of the team out into the city one by one, in disguise, going over the path to where the Quinjet was hidden on a cliff ledge behind Mount Hakodate, and making sure they were familiar with hideouts and train stations in case something went wrong and they had to split up and get out of the city on their own. Plus, the outings had been good for the team's morale. Clint had enjoyed visiting the historic and beautiful star-shaped Goryokaku fort, where the Shoganate loyalists had made their last stand against the forces of the Emperor during the Meiji Restoration. Steve had loved the fresh seafood and ice cream at the fish market. Scott's favorite part had been the old consulates, mansions, churches, and other European-style buildings, which he said kind of reminded him of San Francisco. Sam had particularly appreciated the Museum of Northern Peoples, which had an amazing collection of artifacts from Hokkaido's native Ainu culture. Wanda had finally let herself relax while soaking in the hot mineral water at an onsen. And they had all marveled at the view of the city from the top of Mount Hakodate.

The city occupied a graceful hourglass-shaped isthmus connecting Mount Hakodate to the rest of Hokkaido, the northernmost of Japan's four main islands. Nat had never been to Hakodate before, but had wanted to find an excuse to visit since she'd seen pictures of it years ago.

The house she'd arranged for them was tucked away at the foot of Mount Hakodate, overlooking the southeast-facing shore of the isthmus. The rest of the team was gathered in the upper room when she returned with supper, which she had gathered from various nearby convenience stores (she hadn't wanted to buy enough at any one shop to reveal she was shopping for 6 people).

"Dinner's on," she announced. "Bento boxes and plum, tuna, salmon, and wasabi onigiri." She laid out the options on the floor, alongside an assortment of bottled teas and juices.

Steve picked out a bento box. "Thanks, Nat."

"What kind is this?" Wanda asked, picking up one of the onigiri, a rice roll wrapped in seaweed.

Nat glanced at the label. "Salmon."

She selected two of those, and a bottle of jasmine green tea.

The dinner conversation was the typical jokes, reminiscences, and gripes, but it was sparser and quieter than usual. It weighed on everyone's mind that tonight Nat was gambling with their freedom.

"Hey," Steve said quietly, settling on the floor next to her as she picked at the contents of her bento box. "I hope you know how grateful we are to you. We never would have made it this far without you."

She forced a smile. "You would have done fine."

"We both know that's not true. Whatever happens tonight, I just want you to know...none of us could have made a better assessment than you."

She shrugged. "Thanks."

Scott, who'd finished his food quickly, was amusing himself with a wooden toy Steve had bought. It consisted of a stick shaped like a lower-case t, with a hemispherical cup at the bottom and one on each end of the horizontal bar, and a spike at the top, connected by a string to a heavy ball with a hole in it. Scott was trying to catch the ball in the largest of the cups. He had yet to succeed.

"What's this called again?" he asked Nat.

"Kendama."

"Is there some kind of trick to it?" he asked, handing it toward her.

"Just practice." She took the kendama, swung the ball into the air, caught it in the largest cup, popped the ball into the air again, twisted the kendama, caught the ball in the cup on the other side, tossed again, caught it in the bottom cup, tossed the ball up one more time while twirling the kendama with her fingers, and caught the ball by the hole on the spike.

Scott's jaw dropped.

She handed it back to him.

"How did you do that?"

"Like I said, practice."

Everyone else had been watching her.

"That was amazing!" Sam said. "You could probably kill someone with that."

"Probably," she said, not pointing out she could kill people with her bare hands, and had.

Clint picked up on her slightly begrudging tone. "Hold up; _have_ you?"

"There was this yakuza enforcer trying to kidnap a businessman I was hired to assassinate. I happened to have one handy," she answered reluctantly. She wouldn't hide the sins of her past from the team. "It wasn't pretty."

"I'm impressed," Scott said.

She fixed him with a cold stare. "I've killed a lot of people in my past, in a lot of ways, with just about any weapon you could think of. I'm not proud of any of them."

He looked down, chastened. "Got it."

Once dinner was done, everyone drifted off to their own thoughts.

Wanda sat at the window, staring at the view, which she did often these days. Nat thought about talking to her, but Sam beat her to it.

"You doing okay?" he asked her softly.

Nat pretended she wasn't listening to them as she strapped knives and guns under her clothes in preparation for the night's outing. She knew Wanda was still suffering the effects of her solitary confinement in the Raft, and she was worried about her, but she also knew Sam was the most qualified among them to help her deal with it.

"I'm fine," Wanda said. "I was just thinking. This place is so beautiful, I wish Vision was here to see it."

* * *

The address the message had designated for the drop was on a residential street right next to the forest that covered Mount Hakodate. Nat wondered at this choice for a meeting point. The dark forest would give an advantage to someone escaping pursuit over a pursuer. It was almost as if whoever arranged the meeting was trying to help her feel safe.

She was clad in black and hidden in the shadows of the forest when a small, nondescript car drove up. The driver was the same man she'd seen in Lithuania. That fact surprised her. In fact, it shocked her. She'd assumed the man was hired specifically for the drop off, and someone else would be hired for this one.

When the driver stepped out of the car, Nat on an impulse left the safety of her concealment to confront him.

"Who are you?" she asked.

He looked at her, but said nothing. His face might as well have been carved from stone. He handed her a hefty manila envelope.

"Who do you work for?"

He turned without a word, got back in his car, and drove away.

Nat frowned. "Sam?" she said into the open comm line.

_"I've got 'im."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Further author's notes: Sorry if this chapter seems gratuitous, but one of the reasons I decided to write this story is because whenever I play with a kendama I imagine Black Widow using it as a weapon. I'm not nearly as skilled with it as I portray Natasha, but I've seen someone in action who is.
> 
> The hottest wasabi I ever had was in an onigiri I got at a train station in Hakodate. I've developed a really high tolerance for wasabi, so it was a memorable experience.


	5. Transposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transposition: arriving at a position by a roundabout or unexpected sequence of moves.

"You're palatalizing your final 'dee'. Try it again. Make sure the tip of your tongue touches the alveolar ridge whenever 'dee' comes at the end of the word."

Wanda ran her tongue over the bumpy ridge behind her teeth. "'That's what they said,'" she repeated the line from Nat's dialect lesson, concentrating on the position of her tongue. "It's hard. It feels unnatural."

"You have to lower your bottom lip a little. That's what makes it different from the alveolar flap. Say 'butter'," Nat instructed.

"'Butter'."

"Now you're making the 'tee' a little too hard. It's almost a 'dee'. Try it again."

"Butter," she said, faster and less clearly articulated.

"Good. That's the alveolar flap."

Wanda sighed. "I'll never be able to remember any of this while I'm actually talking."

"That's why you practice. It's just like fighting. You practice and practice and practice until you don't have to think about it anymore."

Wanda groaned.

"Sorry, but this is what you gotta do if you want to pass as American."

"So you did this with every language you speak?"

"Yep. And every dialect. I can speak four different accents of English: Standard American, middleclass London, eastern Canadian, and Australian."

Wanda read the practice sentences again, concentrating on the point of articulation for each allophone Nat had highlighted as characteristic of the standard American accent. When she finished, she looked up, expecting more corrections. But Nat was looking out the window, lost in thought.

"You still bugged by that guy in Hakodate?"

"I just can't figure out how he slipped away. Between me tailing him in person and Sam's stealth drone, we should have had him. I was sure when he abandoned the car I could get close enought to get a tracker on him. I did find out the car was stolen from the long-term parking lot at Hakodate airport. He left it at a train station with a full fuel tank and not a scratch on it, which is pretty considerate for a car thief. He even paid the parking fee."

"Well, you have another appointment with him, so maybe you can figure it out then."

"Right," Nat mused. "Canberra, September Thirteenth. After the first drop, he contacted me on the darkweb again. This time, he put the note with instructions for the next handoff in the envelope with the money. What does that tell you?"

"That he's still figuring this stuff out?" Wanda suggested.

"That he thought the first payment would be the _only_ payment. He didn't plan on a second payment at the time. But by the second payment, he was already planning a third. Why? What changed his mind?"

"I have no idea."

"Neither do I," Nat admitted.

* * *

Based on the previous two handoffs, and the choices of locations, it was probable the mystery man was getting to the rendezvous cities by plane. When the day came for the meeting in Canberra, the rogue Avengers were staking out the airport. With Sam's miniature drones, they had eyes on every exit.

Nat was sure she would recognize the man the moment he walked out a door, but was surprised to spot him driving out of the parking structure much earlier than she expected, a little before 10 a.m. local time.

"I've got him, heading north on Pialligo Avenue in a black sedan," she said as she eased her motorcycle out into traffic. "I'm on his tail."

 _"I've got eyes on him from the sky,"_ Sam said a minute later, after Nat had relayed the car's license plate number.

She turned down a side road, trusting Sam's drone to follow the car until Clint was in position to intercept by car.

They traded off tailing him all day, which got tricky. Canberra was a quiet city, especially for a national capital, without a lot of pedestrian activity. Nat and Clint both had changes of clothes, hats, glasses, and wigs at the ready, but they still had to keep their distance from the target to avoid arousing his suspicion. Sam piloted his drone in wide zigzag patterns, making sure it didn't directly follow the man.

He showed no indication that he knew he was being tailed. Nat started entertaining doubts they had the right man. He was behaving like a tourist, going to the National Gallery, the National Museum, and then for a long walk along the shore of Lake Burley Griffin, stopping often to watch black swans, rosellas, sulfer-crested cockatoos, and the occasional kangaroo.

He drove to the Mount Ainslie Lookout, where he watched the sunset while Sam's drone, from a discreet distance, watched him. He stayed there as the sky faded, as stars came out above and streetlights and car headlights came on below. It was full-on night when he got in his car and drove away, and soon somehow managed to lose them.

 _"Where did he go? I just had him,"_ Clint said. He'd been trailing the car from about a block behind. _"Do you have him, Sam?"_

_"Negative. I think he shut off his headlights."  
_

"Dammit," Nat cursed. If he'd realized they were trailing him, he might not show up at the rendezvous.

She went to stake out the rendezvous point, a quiet spot along a back road on the northern outskirts of the city. Only time would tell if he would show. He hadn't met with anyone or contacted anyone the entire time they'd been tailing him. She went over every detail of the day for anything she might have missed, any moment he might have ducked out of sight long enough to make a phone call. But there hadn't been one.

Which was odd.

Beyond odd.

The entire time they had eyes on him, he hadn't taken out a cellphone to look up directions, or to take a single photograph.

He hadn't once stopped for coffee, or even taken a bathroom break.

She kicked herself for not seeing it before. She was well trained in disguises, and in seeing through disguises. Trained to identify people by their height, build, and gait rather than by clothes, hair color, or even faces, which could quickly be altered with makeup and prosthetics.

She knew exactly who their mystery man was. She hadn't seen it before because she hadn't thought it was possible. Of course, he'd been shattering her notions of what was possible since the day she met him.

"I might be able to get some answers if I can convince my contact he's not being overheard," she said, mere minutes before the appointed time for the meeting. "I'm going to shut off my earpiece. Don't freak out, and don't approach."

 _"You sure about that, Romanov?"_ Steve asked.

"Yeah."

 _"What's the signal if we need to swoop in?"_ Asked Sam.

"We won't need one. I've got this. Trust me."

The dark car drove up at exactly 1:00 a.m. When he got out of the car, holding another manila envelope, Nat emerged from the shadows, stepping into the moonlight. She slowly took off her earpiece, made sure he could see her switch it off, and dropped it on the ground.

"Got a few minutes to stay and chat this time, Vision?"


	6. Sitzfleisch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sitzfleisch: the ability of a chess player to sit still.
> 
> This chapter is a flashback.

It had been two weeks since the fight at Leipzig Airport, since Wanda, Sam, and Clint were incarcerated, since Natasha disappeared, since Colonel Rhodes' critical injury, since Tony had gone to Siberia and fought Captain Rogers.

Vision had spent every moment of those two weeks pondering how everything had gone so disasterously wrong.

In the process, he was learning many new things about himself, such as that his mind had remarkable heretofore undiscovered capacities for fear, anxiety, regret, remorse, despair, and guilt.

His reflections had revealed that despite his mind's superhuman analytical capabilities, he was capable of being catastrophically wrong.

He thought the Sokovia Accords were a precautionary measure, a prudent restraint on the power the Avengers could wield, a groundwork of authority for their international protective activities. If he had known those restraints would so quickly be abused to lock away his friends...

Part of him could understand a prison designed to hold enhanced individuals, people a conventional prison could not hope to confine. The Winter Soldier demonstrated the extraordinary measures that might at some point be required to protect the public.

But another part of him couldn't understand this at all. Clint, Sam, and Wanda were not criminals. They were not unreasonable sociopaths. His interactions with Mr. Lang mostly consisted of phasing through him, but he had seemed a decent person. They had been doing what they truly believed was right. They were heroes. Clint had helped save the world from the Chitauri invasion, Sam helped save the world from HYDRA, Wanda helped save the world from Ultron. They did not deserve to be locked away. Couldn't the authorities see that? Couldn't the world see that they were owed, at the very least, another chance? It was unjust. It was cruel. It was inhuman.

Wanda did not deserve to be locked away.

That thought cut the deepest.

He'd said they would protect her. He'd stated as a fact that the other Avengers would protect her. That _he_ would protect her. That was what he'd been trying to do when he kept her at the compound.

Another thing he'd discovered about himself was an ability to imagine, to run scenarios through his mind that might happen, that might have happened if he'd done something differently in the past, and that might be happening to other people at that very moment. He imagined how the other Avengers might be suffering imprisoned in the Raft. Wanda, who had felt stifled when he told her she shouldn't leave her own home for a while...how must she feel being confined to a cell? She who had been trapped in a bombed building at age ten, who had lived in a cell while HYDRA subjected her to painful and terrifying experiments, who loved to wander city streets and the woods whenever she needed time to think... How terrible must it be for her to be locked in a cell now, with no idea how long the confinement would last? What might she be thinking and feeling at this moment?

He imagined what might happen if he found the Raft and used his strength and density to make a hole through it. Could he get everyone out safely before it filled with water? Where could he take the prisoners where they would be safe? Where would he hide once he was consequently on the run?

He imagined what might have gone differently that last night he had with Wanda in the compound.

He'd wanted to keep her there, to protect her, but he shouldn't have. If he'd just trusted her to go to the grocery store and get paprika without incident, would she have stayed with him later, instead of leaving with Clint? She had seemed at the time to accept his reasoning for why she shouldn't leave, to prove to the world she was responsible, that the fearful power she commanded could be restrained.

Why had she looked at him that way, when his hand had been on her arm as he told her Tony wanted to avoid any possible incidents? Why had she asked him what _he_ wanted? She was the one being asked to accept limits on her freedom; what did it matter what he wanted? Why did it matter to her?

What had she wanted him to say?

His answer had been the truth: what he wanted was for people to know the real Wanda Maximoff: the caring, radiant, brave, beautiful, thoughtful, kind woman he knew. He wanted the world to love her, as she deserved.

He wasn't entirely sure his answer had been the _whole_ truth.

The door opened.

"So this is where you've been hiding."

He hadn't seen or heard from Tony in over a week. He'd taken to confining himself in unused, unfurnished rooms of the compound, where he could think undistracted.

"Where else should I be?" Vision replied.

"You can't just sit here forever."

"Technically I can," he pointed out.

"You're an Avenger. The only one currently in commission. At some point you have to come out and, you know, do some avengering."

"I was under the impression the world has decided it doesn't need heroes."

Tony stared at him. "You're being _petulant_. You're acting like a sullen teenager."

"Isn't that what I am? You began work on the artificial intelligence program you called JARVIS in 1997. If we are to count that as my birth, I am nineteen years old, so I am a teenager. And considering innocent people I consider my friends have been unjustly imprisoned without legal recourse, I believe I have a right to be sullen."

"I wouldn't say they're entirely innocent. They helped a known assassin and suspected bomber escape, stole a Quinjet, and attacked us. Rhodey almost died, in case you've forgotten."

"Of course I have not forgotten." He was quiet for a moment. "I have thought over that sequence of events thousands of times. I didn't intend for my blast to hit Colonel Rhodes."

Tony pursed his lips. "I know."

"But I believe I did intend to miss Mr. Wilson."

He frowned. "What?"

"I didn't want to risk anyone else being injured. I believe that a subroutine interfered with my ability to aim, causing me to miss Mr. Wilson without it appearing deliberate, but I failed to calculate what my energy beam might hit instead."

"Why miss Sam on purpose? We were trying to stop them from escaping..."

"Captain Rogers and Mr. Barnes had already escaped. Wanda was stunned. The battle was an error to begin with; we should have found a way to reason through our dilemma rather than resort to force."

"We tried. If we didn't fight them, they would have just escaped."

"Then we should have let them escape. Now because of us, our friends are in prison. _My_ friends." Vision saw the stunned look on Tony's face and instantly regretted what he'd implied. In a softer voice, he said, "We must find a way to make it right."

"We can't. It's out of our hands." The undertone of frustration and exhaustion in Tony's words were all that kept Vision from anger at them.

"If we can't make it right, then we should fight to at least make it less wrong."

"Don't let Ross hear you talking like that. To his mind, you're not a citizen, you're a weapon. If he thinks you're unpredictable, he's not just going to try to lock you up."

Vision knew exactly what he meant, and made no reply.

A weapon. Was that what he was?

Tony turned to leave. "If you want to sit in here and mope, that's up to you. Just so long as I know where to find you if I need you."

And just like that, Vision was alone again. He felt even more alone than he did before, since now he knew he couldn't rely on Tony to help his team.

But what could Vision do alone?

What could he do? That was an interesting question. He had no idea the extent of his powers. He'd always limited his experimentation with his powers to what he _should_ do, what was within legal and ethical limits, but if he wanted to help his team, he may have to explore beyond those parameters.

He could phase into people. If he let himself solidify only the tiniest bit inside them, could he cause enough pain to render them unconscious without killing them? Could he hide inside someone without them noticing, or perhaps even control their actions like a puppet? He could phase his clothes into different colors and textures. Could he phase a mask over his face? A human disguise? If he could, he could phase into the Raft, impersonate a guard, and...

And what? What would he do then?

The answer came to him with a force and certainty that frightened him:

Whatever he had to do to save her.


	7. Isolani

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isolani: an isolated queen's pawn, considered an asset in middlegame but an endgame weakness.

At the startled, apprehensive expression on his previously stony face, Nat could suddenly see him for who he was. She could recognize the features of the android she had come to know over a year of training him, fighting beside him, games of chess, and occasional discussions of Russian philosophers, world history, religion, linguistics, and other subjects suitable for evening conversation.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"We've been tailing you all day. You went ten hours without eating, drinking, or peeing."

He frowned and nodded, disappointed in himself. "I knew I was being followed. I thought I was acting unsuspicious, but it didn't cross my mind..."

"No one thinks of everything, especially since you're new at this kind of thing," Nat said. "You're disguise is impressive. How are you doing it?"

"It turns out that just as I can phase clothing, I can simulate skin and hair. It took a great deal of practice to make a face that looked natural."

"Why the deception? Why didn't you want us to know who you are?"

"If you knew it was me from the beginning," he asked, "would you have trusted me enough to accept my help?"

She considered the question: Vision was technically part of the opposition. With Bruce and Thor gone, he was hands-down the strongest Avenger left. He had been a vocal supporter of the Accords. Why had she been so ready to trust him even now?

Because knowing it was his plan explained things that had puzzled her, because he sucked at lying, and this clumsy cloak-and-dagger world tour was exactly the kind of thing she'd expect him to come up with, which told her he wasn't here on anyone else's orders. Ross hadn't orchestrated this plan, and she couldn't believe that Vision on his own initiative would do anything to put them in danger.

But if that first message had told her it was Vision she'd be meeting with, she would have been more suspicious, because _that_ would be much more the kind of subterfuge Ross would try to pull.

"Probably not," she stated. "Why are you helping us? You have to know aiding and abetting criminals makes you a criminal."

"Yes," he said begrudgingly. "But sometimes breaking a law is the right thing to do. As it seems I can't force international authorities to see the logic of dismissing the charges against your faction, financial support is one small way I can help you. It's something I can do to help keep my teammates safe and free." As he spoke, a note of frustration and desperation crept into his voice.

"It's been helping us out a lot," she told him.

He looked down at the envelope in his hands. "Good." He handed it to her, and she accepted it.

"How are Tony and Rhodey?"

"They are..." He sighed. "Colonel Rhodes is adjusting. He has been improving with physical therapy. Tony has been designing prosthetics for him."

"Sounds like Tony. When something's wrong, try to fix it with money and technology."

"Yes," Vision agreed. "Our relationship has been strained. He has not forgiven me for the accident that injured Colonel Rhodes. And I...may have said some things to him that were not entirely...diplomatic." He moved on quickly. "Though he has not told me directly, I believe Tony has been feeling guilty for his part in the schism. I believe we all have."

"Yeah. Our side too."

"How are the others?"

"I'd say we're doing fine, considering the circumstances," Nat answered. "It gets pretty cramped with six of us packed in the Quinjet, and whatever place we can find to hide out in for a few days at a time. We're all getting to know each other really well. Clint doesn't talk about it much, but he misses his family. Scott misses his daughter and he talks about her all the time. Sam's trying hard to keep everyone's spirits up. Steve has been putting on a brave front, but the responsibility is weighing him down."

Vision nodded. "What about Wanda? Is she..." He suddenly looked worried at the omission, realizing that if something terrible had happened to Wanda, he wouldn't necessarily have heard about it.

Nat had left Wanda out on purpose as a test. She knew how close the two of them had been. In training, they often almost automatically teamed up when they weren't assigned to face each other. They gravitated toward each other in their downtime. They bonded over being the newbies to the team, their shared history with Ultron and source of power in the Mind Stone, and their mutual love of chess. Even before Wanda's mourning for her brother faded and she grew to like and trust the team, it was clear that she and Vision would be best friends.

Nat had been in the room when Vision explained how Wanda had escaped with Clint. He'd related how Wanda had taken control of his power, causing him to phase so Clint could get free and then increasing his density and pushing him through the floor, but he had downplayed it, insisting Wanda knew she wouldn't cause him permanent damage. The only time emotion quivered in his voice was when he'd said _I couldn't protect her._

And she'd caught a glimpse of them on the battlefield, as Steve flew off in the stolen Quinjet with Bucky. Wanda had been on the ground, Vision kneeling next to her, supporting her with one arm.

And now worry was slipping into panic on his face at the mere notion that Wanda might be dead.

"The Raft was hard on her," Nat said. "Do you know what they put her through?"

"They would have taken measures to keep her from using her power. I imagined they used some kind of hand restraints."

"She was put in a straitjacket, with a shock collar, in solitary confinement," she said slowly, watching the pain on Vision's face at each revelation.

"Is she alright?" he asked, stricken.

Nat took pity on him. "She is now. She's tough. She's a survivor."

"I know."

It took Nat a moment to decide to ask her next question. It was too personal, but she had to know how much they could count on Vision. "Do you love her?"

He froze. It took him several seconds to answer. "I don't know. I don't know if I'm capable of experiencing love as humans do. But I feel a...an instinct to protect her that I can't rationally account for. It's overriding." He looked up at her sharply. "Please don't tell her."

"Why don't you want her to know?"

"Because...if she knew I...presumed to harbor such...possibilities..." He lifted his hands in a gesture that presented himself as wanting, as if he were Caliban knowing how hopeless was his love for Miranda. "I do not wish to lose whatever regard she still has for me."

Nat knew how he felt. She knew what it was like to have feelings for someone but to fear they couldn't return them, that revealing those feelings could cause them to lose respect for you, or pity you. And even if they didn't, it would change the dynamic of the relationship, quite possibly for the worse. But that was different, because she had still been working with Bruce at the time. Vision might never see Wanda again, so why was he so worried that she might find out how he felt about her?

"Just promise me you won't tell her. Please."

He had it bad.

"Okay. I won't tell her."

Vision visibly relaxed. "Thank you."

"Thank you for helping us." She opened the envelope and drew out the note tucked between the bundles of cash. "See you in..." She squinted to read the writing in the moonlight. "Vancouver, Canada, next month."

He nodded. "If I'm unable to make it, I will contact you by the first method to arrange another place and time."

"Okay. It's good to see you, Vision."

"It was good to see you as well. I have missed...having someone to speak to. To confide in."

Nat put her hand on his shoulder, feeling the solid rigidity of his vibranium-infused muscles under his disguise. She could tell from the things he'd said, and by his actions, how alone and abandoned he must be feeling since the schism. The only family he'd ever known ripped apart, not on speaking terms with the person who was the closest thing he had to a father, and the woman he was obviously crazy about on the run from the law, and him.

"Any time," she said.


	8. Luft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luft: (German, "air") a space cleared for a king to move to after castling.

It was taking too long.

Wanda paced outside the Quinjet as the Australian winter night got colder and colder.

"Something's gone wrong. We should go," she said.

"It's been fifteen minutes," Scott said.

Wanda continued pacing for a few more minutes before Nat walked through the trees.

Steve stepped toward her. "Star?"

"Struck," Nat called in reply. "Sugar."

"Bowl," Steve responded. Having codeword-verified that she wasn't under duress, he relaxed. "Do you want to try tracking him again?"

"No. Let's just head out."

A minute later, they were wheels up, Sam in the pilot seat. The Quinjet took off over the sleeping city. Anyone who happened to be awake and looking at the sky just then would have seen stars twinkle dark for just a second as the silent stealth jet sped past them, so briefly they would wonder if they imagined it.

Nat stared out the window, deep in thought. Wanda could feel indecision in her mind, but it was of a quieter, less anxious hue than it had been for months. Something had changed during this meeting.

"What happened down there?" Steve asked.

"Did you get the mystery man to talk?" Clint added.

"Yeah. I know who he is, and why he's helping us," Nat said.

Steve and Clint looked startled and curious at her cryptic tone.

"Who is he?" Steve asked.

Nat glanced at each of them, letting her perceptive gaze come to rest on Wanda when she said, "It's Vision."

The sound of his name sank into her like a stone in a previously still pool.

"Vizh?" she whispered.

At the same moment, Clint and Steve said, "What?"

"Vision. He's figured out how to use his phasing to disguise himself."

"But why would he be helping us?" Scott asked. "That makes no sense. He's on the other side."

Steve answered him. "The day we met him, I asked if he was on our side. He said he was on the side of life. He doesn't see things in terms of two sides of a conflict, two sides of the law. That's too simplistic for him."

"He believes the charges against us should be dropped," Nat said. "Doesn't mean he thinks we're right, but he thinks locking us up would be wrong. He wants to help us stay free."

"He told you that?" Clint asked.

"Yes."

"And you believe him?"

"In all the time we've known Vision, has he ever lied?"

"But...how do you know they didn't just reprogram him to try and infiltrate us?" Scott asked.

Wanda felt a retort rise to her lips without even thinking about it. "You can't just _reprogram_ Vision. He's not a robot."

"Then what is he?"

"A synthetic human." When Wanda stated that, everyone looked at her, and she realized that of this group she was the resident expert on Vision. Stark could explain how he worked better than she could, but he wasn't there. And she had seen him made, after all. "Under Ultron's direction, Doctor Cho grew Vision from her medical tissue printer. Artificial human cells bonded with vibranium. But instead of being powered by food, his body is powered by energy from the Mind Stone, carried to his muscles by vibranium circuits. But his mind is much more complex than any computer. He's the smartest person I know, and even he can't figure out how his brain works, how his synthetic neurons, vibranium circuits, and the Mind Stone interact. No one could just go in and reprogram him."

Scott stared at her, surprised by her vehemence. "Okay."

Wanda looked at Nat. "How is he doing? Did he seem okay?"

"He's okay. I think he's pretty broken up about our fight, about Rhodey, but he's dealing."

"Did he say anything..." Wanda just barely kept herself from adding _about me?_

"He said Rhodey's improving. He asked how we're all doing."

"If they find out Vision is helping us," she realized, "he would be in danger."

"We wouldn't let anything happen to him," Steve said.

"If Ross has a contingency plan for Vision—and knowing him, he does—it's not going to involve locking him up somewhere," Nat countered. "Vision is in danger, and he knows that. It says a lot that he's taking the risk to help us anyway."

To Wanda, it seemed obvious that if Vision thought helping them was the right thing to do, he would do it regardless of the consequences to himself. That was simply the kind of person he was.

But then, keeping her confined at the compound had been wrong, as Sam said, and he'd done that because Stark asked him to. When she'd told him she was leaving, he'd said _I can't let you._ She'd felt panic from him in that moment, panic and despair.

_They will never stop being afraid of you..._

He would have kept her there, away from the world, away from the fight. Why? Why would he do that knowing it was wrong?

The way he'd looked at her on the battle field, when they had both said they were sorry, his eyes full of deep and earnest sorrow...

The last time she'd seen him. Perhaps the last time she would ever see him.

They stopped to rest in an abandoned factory in an Indonesian jungle. Even though it had been a good twenty hours since she'd woken up that morning, Wanda didn't try to go to sleep when everyone else did. She walked to the roof, listening to the night insects and birds and feeling the warm, heavy air.

Nat stepped next to her without a sound.

"I thought you were asleep," Wanda said.

"I figured you'd want to talk."

"Did he ask about me? Did Vision...say anything about me?"

"He wanted to know if you were okay, how you're doing."

"Did he... Are you planning on another meeting?"

"October eighth, Vancouver, Canada," Nat answered.

"May I go with you, when you go?"

She looked slightly amused by Wanda's reticence. "I actually think you two should talk privately."


	9. Takeback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takeback: an agreement by both players to undo one or more moves.

A heavy fog gave Lynn Canyon Park an eerie ambiance. It didn't help that there were very few people on the trails on such a chilly evening. The trees were dark and brooding. There were scattered stumps that showed there used to be much taller trees here. Some of them were wider than Wanda was tall.

She was glad Vision hadn't scheduled this meeting for the middle of the night.

Nat had assured her that Vision would be right on time to the minute. She checked her GPS repeatedly to make sure she was in the right spot, a clearing on the slope above the river, just within sight of the suspension bridge.

Suddenly she spotted him. From her vantage point, she saw him crossing the suspension bridge. She was afraid. She didn't know what was causing the fear. She knew Vision wouldn't hurt her, she believed he had no intention of turning them in. She was just afraid to face him.

She lost sight of him for a minute, and then he stepped from the trees right in front of her.

Where he froze, gaping at her.

"Wanda," he breathed.

She was shaking, trembling with nervousness. "Vizh."

They stared at each other for a minute, overwhelmed with being in each other's presence after months of being apart, but neither able to think of what to say.

"I..." Vision hazarded, then trailed off.

"Why didn't you ask for me?" Wanda asked. "I mean, I get why you didn't want us to know who you were at first, but once Nat figured it out, why didn't you ask to see me?"

"I wasn't sure you would _want_ to see me," he answered. "After what I did to you, after my attempt to detain you at the compound, and my failure to prevent your imprisonment, I thought..." His voice trembled. "I thought you might hate me."

"Oh, Vizh, no. I could never hate you. After what I did to you, for a while I wondered if you might hate me, but you..." She shrugged. "You don't hate."

He stared at her hard. She didn't know something as immaterial as a look could feel so hard.

"I hate," he said. "I hate what has been done to you. I hate the situation we have been forced into. I didn't know I had the capacity to hate before this."

She took a hesitant step forward. He remained frozen.

"Are you afraid of me?" she asked.

"No. I am afraid, but not of you."

"I'm not afraid of you either."

"And you don't hate me?"

"I was angry at you for a while," she admitted, "and I still think you were wrong, but then I just missed you. You mean so much to me."

"You mean very much to me as well," he said. "You were the first human who ever reached out to me. You were my first friend. Our estrangement has been tormenting me."

"Can we just pretend the fight didn't happen? Just forget that you tried to keep me locked up, and that I...took control of your power and...made a hole in the floor with you? Can we go back to how we were before that?" She wasn't exactly sure what they had been to each other at that point: best friends or something a little more than friends. But whatever it had been, she wanted it back.

"I would agree to that," he said, flashing a smile.

Wanda realized she hadn't said anything about his disguise. It had barely registered. She'd spent hours over the past weeks looking at surveillance photos of Vision from when they were following him through Canberra, amazed that this rather ordinary-looking man was the Vision she knew so well. But being with him, feeling the familiar hum of his mind and hearing his voice, she'd nearly forgotten how different he looked.

"May I feel you?" she asked tentatively.

Once she said it she regretted her wording, but before she could think of how to correct it, Vision whispered, "Yes."

She took a step closer to him and slowly touched her fingertips to his cheek, waiting for a flinch, or any other indication the touch was unwelcome. None came. He didn't lean into the touch, as part of her secretly wished he would, but neither did he pull away. He just kept his eyes on her, a fixed stare that she felt to her core.

His skin was the hard, unyielding, smooth texture she was used to. He could pass as a regular human by sight, but not by touch. She found that strangely comforting.

She ran her fingers through his hair. It had the same silky, flowing texture as his cape.

She felt no flicker of fear from him. What came off his mind was more like relief.

Had she been the only person to touch him in five months?

She stepped up to him and rested her head on his chest. He immediately wrapped his arms around her. They stood like that in silence for a minute. Or a few minutes. Wanda wasn't sure how much time passed. She didn't want to move, didn't want to ever stop touching him.

"How are you?" he asked, and she could feel his chest vibrate with his voice. "I heard about what you endured during your imprisonment."

She reluctantly drew away from him so she could look at him when she answered. "I've been through worse. I'm dealing. What about you? How are you?"

He looked a little surprised by the question, like he hadn't expected her to reciprocate. "These past months have been the most difficult of my life, not that that's saying much. I have been preoccupied with my part in the catastrophes that befell us: the imprisonment of you, Sam, and Clint, and Colonel Rhodes' spinal injury..."

"That wasn't your fault. It was an accident."

"I still feel responsible. I am...I can't help but feel that my...superhuman capacities gave me a proportionately increased responsibility to prevent harmful outcomes. I had read the entirety of the Sokovia Accords—I had memorized them—so I should have known what would befall you when you were taken into custody. I should have prevented it. I should have been more careful with my aim."

"Nat's been telling me that instead of kicking ourselves for the mistakes of the past, we should learn from them to decide how we won't make the same mistakes in the future."

Vision nodded. "That is wise."

"She has a lot of experience in that kind of thing." As she talked, they drifted over to a nearby fallen log and sat down next to each other. "So what was up with that guy in the red spiderweb costume? We've been wondering what he's been up to."

"Spiderman. Mr. Stark has told me little about him. I do know he is quite young. His agility and enhanced senses are inherent, though he apparently manufactures the webbing he uses. Mr. Stark has been designing auxiliary technologies for him for some time, ever since first coming across rumors of him on the internet. My personal opinion is that, given his youth, it was irresponsible of Mr. Stark to include him in the mission."

"Well, that's Tony for you."

"True," he said with a lopsided smile. "What of the man who can alter his size? I believe his name is Scott? Are his abilities inherent or technological?"

"That's all technology. He had a suit with something called Pym Particles, but he destroyed it before they arrested us. I'm surprised Tony didn't tell you about it. Apparently it was invented by one of his main rivals."

Vision tilted his head in surprise. "I am familiar with the work of Hank Pym. Tony has been consulting me very little of late."

"I'm so sorry." There was a brief lull in the conversation. "So has it just been you at the compound?"

"Much of the time, yes."

"That must be so lonely."

He nodded. "Yes."

She tried to lighten the mood. "So, what have you been doing? Taken up any new hobbies?"

He smiled at her. "I have been spending a great deal of my time reading, thinking. With my new ability to disguise myself, I have taken up a bit of tourism."

She laughed. "So that's your real reason for helping us."

"You've discovered my ulterior motive," he joked.

His smile slowly faded away as he looked at her, and she felt a desperate need to bring it back. "I bet it's hard to remember not to walk through walls in your disguise."

"That would give me away rather dramatically," he replied with the same levity. "How have you been spending your time, Wanda? What have you been doing to enjoy yourself?"

"I've taken up tourism too. Lots and lots of involuntary tourism."

He chuckled.

"I've been...reading a lot. Stealth lessons with Nat, hand-to-hand combat practice, talk therapy with Sam. Sometimes me and Sam sneak off and fly around a little when we're far enough from civilization." She smiled at her admission of that small act of rebellion. "I've been playing chess with Scott."

"Is he very good?"

"Average," she replied.

He smiled again. "I'm sure he will improve with practice."

"Oh, I'm sure." She smiled back. "I miss our games, Vision."

"As do I."

There was such emotion in his voice Wanda thought she might break, and she wasn't sure what she would do if she did.

So she quickly changed the subject. "What's your favorite place you've traveled so far?"

They talked about their travels for a while, then about places they wanted to go but had never been, which led their conversation to books that they'd read.

And then Wanda realized how dark it had gotten.

"What's wrong?" Vision asked when she stopped talking abruptly.

"I didn't realize how late it is."

His eyes widened. "I hadn't noticed." He sounded deeply troubled by that fact. "You should go. The others must be worried about you."

"Will you come with me to the meeting point? I'm sure they'd want to see you."

"I am not so sure about that," he said hesitantly.

"Will you at least walk with me to the road? You can see better in the dark than I can."

"Of course."

She took his arm as they made their way through the dense forest. When she tripped and had to cling to him to keep from falling, she couldn't help but laugh.

At the parking lot, Vision turned to her.

"This is my car," he said gravely. "I should go."

It hurt. It physically hurt deep in her chest to think about saying goodbye to him. But what could she say? They had to part ways sometime.

"It was good to see you," she said.

"You as well. Here." He held out the envelope he'd seemingly forgotten he was still carrying. "The next meeting I have planned is in Guilin, China. Will you be there? If...if you'd like. You don't have to be..."

"Vizh...you don't have to do this for us. You don't need to help us. We can get by without it, and it puts you in danger."

"Please," he begged her. "Please let me help you, while I can. I was making a plan to save you from the Raft, but before I learned to master my disguise, Captain Rogers rescued you. I couldn't help you then. Let me help you now. Let me."

She could sense his need—his primal, selfless _need_ to be useful to them—and she couldn't say no.

"Okay," she whispered.

He put the envelope in her hand, hesitated for a few seconds, then stepped backward toward his car. "Goodbye, Wanda. Be safe."

"You too," she said as brightly as she could.

Minutes later, she got into the car Nat was waiting in down the road.

"That took a while," Nat said mildly. "What did you two talk about."

"We were just...catching up," Wanda answered, trying not to let the ache in her chest affect her voice.

"Will you be seeing him again?"

"Yeah. Next month, in China."


	10. Priyome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Priyome: chess strategies that depend on pawn positions.

Maybe it had been a reckless risk to stay in British Columbia for a while after the meeting with Vision, but Natasha had reasoned if anyone were tracking them they would assume the Rogue Avengers had left the country as soon as possible, as they had after previous meetings.

They had hopped over to Vancouver Island, where the dense forests provided a good place to hide. They'd built a makeshift cabin in the forest in a couple of days. It was a short hike from the outskirts of Victoria.

Nat figured it would be good psychologically for the team to spend some time in a city where they could fit in and where the local language was English, giving them all a chance to meet new people, even if those interactions consisted of nothing more than ordering coffee.

She and Wanda had done just that. They sat outside the coffee shop, which was a small place in a quiet suburb, next to a little lake that reflected the shifting blue and gray of the sky.

"This is incredible," Wanda said after taking a bite of the dessert of layers of chocolate and custard that Nat insisted she get to go along with her latte. "What is it?"

"Nanaimo bar."

"Why have I never heard of it before?"

"It's kind of a regional specialty."

"Then we have to come back here, because I don't think I can live without this."

Nat smiled. "I knew you'd like it. It even got your mind off Vision for a minute."

Wanda froze with a bite of Nanaimo bar on her fork. "What are you talking about?" she asked tensely.

"Please. You've been distracted since you met with him. You're downright pining."

"I am not. Vision and I just talked. We're friends." She added quietly, almost mournfully, "We're just friends."

Nat looked at her, watching her shifting expression. "But you don't want to be 'just friends', do you?"

Wanda didn't answer.

"You should tell him how you feel."

"How could I?" Wanda asked. "I mean, he's...so perfect. He's the smartest, kindest, handsomest person I've ever met. He's positively angelic. And I'm...deeply flawed. I'm impulsive, and reckless, and vindictive, and...and...not sophisticated or smart... I am so far beneath him."

Nat rolled her eyes. "Seriously?" She wished she could tell her that Vision had voiced a very similar level of inferiority complex, but she had technically promised Vision she wouldn't tell Wanda about his feelings.

"Am I wrong?" Wanda asked rhetorically.

Nat could have pointed out that Wanda was widely considered exceptionally beautiful, and that a lot of people wouldn't even consider Vision dating material, much less the world's most eligible bachelor, as she seemed to think him. "So, if you're not good enough for Vision, who is, in your opinion?"

Wanda shook her head and shrugged. "I don't know. A scientist? A supergenius?"

Nat hadn't actually expected her to have an answer for that. She sipped her coffee and looked out over the lake, trying to decide whether to break her word to Vision and straight-up tell her.

A large raven landed in a bigleaf maple tree at the shore of the lake. It opened its beak and let out a call that sounded more like a bullfrog croak than a birdsong. Another raven answered it, then flew across the lake to join it. They preened each others' feathers and made small, affectionate sounds to each other. Nat smiled, contemplating how there might just be someone out there for everyone.

"I knew a man once," she said. "A scientist. He was a supergenius, but super humble about it. He was nerdy, with a goofy smile, the sweetest man I've ever met. But he had a...condition, and sometimes bad things happened because of it. So when a woman he liked finally told him she had feelings for him, he got scared, and he left."

Wanda frowned. "You're talking about Dr. Banner?"

It was hard for Nat to talk about him. It still hurt, and being open about her feelings didn't come naturally to her, but it was also a relief to talk to someone about him. "I shouldn't have waited so long to tell him how I felt. Maybe if I'd told him when we weren't facing a global crisis that required the Hulk, he would've had time to ease into the idea, and he wouldn't have run. But I had the same doubts you have. I'm an assassin; I've got blood on my hands and some really disturbing things in my head. Bruce had never and would never hurt anyone on purpose. I doubted I was good enough for him. And I let those doubts hold me back. Don't make the same mistake."

Wanda looked down at the table. Her lips parted, then closed as she apparently changed her mind about saying something.

"I know what you're thinking," Nat said. "If I hadn't told him how I felt, I wouldn't have scared him off, and maybe he'd still be here..."

Wanda looked up sharply, a chagrined expression on her face. "That's not what I was thinking," she assured her. "I was thinking...it's my fault he left. What I did to him in Johannesburg, causing the Hulk rampage... He wouldn't have felt like he had to disappear if it weren't for that. It's my fault. I'm so sorry."

Nat couldn't honestly say that wasn't a contributing factor, so she said it dishonestly. "It wasn't your fault. In Sokovia, I forced Hulk out to fight Ultron. Maybe that's why he left. It was Bruce choosing to disappear. Maybe he thought I was only pretending to be interested in him to use the Hulk."

"I'm sure he didn't think that," Wanda said. "If he was so smart, he would have known you wouldn't do that."

"I've done that kind of thing plenty of times in my past, and Bruce knew that," Nat said. "But, my point is, if you have feelings for Vision, tell him. At this point, what do you have to lose?"

"I don't know," Wanda answered. "But that's what scares me. I asked Pietro that question when I told him about HYDRA's call for volunteers for experiments that could turn humans into living weapons. Why not? It could give us the power to get revenge, and what did we have to lose? But I learned. You don't always know what you have to lose until you lose it."

Nat knew from her own life how true that was, but she hoped Wanda's fear wouldn't keep her from pursuing her feelings for Vision. Nat wanted them both to be happy, of course, but she had another reason to want them together. If Vision was in love with Wanda, then it gave their side a secret advantage: a very powerful sympathizer embedded with the opposing faction.

* * *

Vision sat perfectly still at the end of the table. Tony and Rhodes were a few chairs down. All that was left of the Avengers, listening impassively to General Ross.

"The fugitives are the single biggest threat to global security right now. You know them better than anyone, and you're telling me you have zero leads?"

"Sir, they've got Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton, and the Winter Soldier..."

"You know as well as I do there have been no credible eyewitness reports of James Barnes in months," Ross interjected.

"Even if they only have Romanov and Barton, they've got two of the best spies in the world on their team. They know us better than we know them, and they know we're looking for them. We're not going to find them," Rhodes said.

"Have you been _trying?"_

"Of course we've been trying," Tony said. "I've created an A.I. program to collate and follow up on every reported Rogue Avenger sighting on social media. I'm working on a satellite system capable of tracking a Quinjet in stealth mode—a project which would be a lot further along if S.H.I.E.L.D. weren't so stingy with sharing their specs, by the way. What more do you think we can do?"

"Have you tried reaching out to them? Convince them you're on their side, maybe offer them a meeting we could use to set up a sting operation?" Ross replied.

"Even _if_ I had a way to get in touch with them—unlikely—and even _if_ I could convince Rogers I weren't still livid at him—even more unlikely—Romanov would see right through it in a second."

Ross grimaced. He stood, squeaking his chair loudly, and paced. He abruptly stopped and pointed at Vision. "What's you're assessment?"

Tony and Rhodes stared at him like they just remembered he was there.

"My assessment is that Colonel Rhodes and Mr. Stark are correct: given the level of expertise among them and their possession of a Quinjet, it is nearly impossible to locate, much less apprehend, the fugitive Avengers."

"You've got a supercomputer for a brain; surely you can think of something the rest of us haven't."

"All I could add to the discussion would be further difficulties." It didn't feel like a lie. Pointing out the challenges in even getting a message to the rogue Avengers—challenges he was well aware of, having overcome them—was all he was willing to add to the discussion. He would have no way to find them if they didn't choose to meet with him.

He would not say or do anything to endanger Wanda.

_Do you love her?_

Natasha's question had been playing on repeat in his mind.

He almost missed it when Ross asked, "Further difficulties like what?"

He tilted his head, considering how he wanted to answer. He must avoid saying anything that might give the others ideas. "When a wild animal is cornered, it is at its most dangerous. Humans are the same. The terms of the Sokovia Accords allow for enhanced individuals deemed too dangerous to stand trial to be imprisoned until their capabilities can be neutralized to the point where it is proven safe to bring them to a public courtroom. After the altercation at Leipzig Airport, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff, and Scott Lang were classified as enhanced, and consequently confined to a specially designed prison, despite the fact that for all but one of them, their enhancements consist of technology, which was taken away from them upon their arrest, at which point they posed no significant danger."

"What's your point?" Ross asked.

"Facing the possibility of a lifetime of imprisonment without legal recourse, I believe that, if we did find them, they would fight to the death. Their own, ours, or anyone else you may send against them."

Tony and Rhodes stared at him, unnerved.

"Then what are you suggesting? That we _don't_ try to find and arrest them?" Ross asked.

That was exactly what Vision wanted, but he knew that question was meant to be rhetorical. "My assessment is that they would not pose a threat if they had hope of legal remedies to their fugitive status. Perhaps not offers of amnesty or full pardons," Vision didn't want them to know that was exactly what he thought the Rogue Avengers deserved, "but if they were offered a plea deal, perhaps the possibility of serving their sentences under house arrest..." If Wanda were under house arrest at the compound, he would be able to see her, help her endure the unjust but temporary confinement...

_Do you love her?_

"They would not be nearly as great a threat," Vision concluded.

"They might even turn themselves in," Tony mused.

Ross fixed Vision with a disappointed look. "That's really the best you can come up with? Dangle a plea deal in front of them?"

"I will continue to look for means to locate them," Vision answered, "but my assessment is that bargaining is an avenue worth exploring."

Ross scowled. "We'll look into it as a last resort. Let me know if you come up with any _helpful_ suggestions."

He left.

Rhodes kept looking at Vision. "You really think they would kill us if we tried to bring them in? We served with them, fought beside them..."

"Fought against them," Vision pointed out. "If we try to arrest them, we will be acting as their enemies, and they will react accordingly."

"How can you be so damn..."

"He made a good suggestion," Tony said. "And Ross looked like he was actually considering it, which is a minor miracle." He gestured for Rhodes to drop the issue.

They left the conference room, and Vision sat at the table alone.

Had he sounded too harsh? Too unemotional? He'd been afraid of betraying himself, revealing where he really stood in regards to the Rogue Avengers. Perhaps he'd gone too far the other way if Rhodes really believed he didn't care about their former colleagues, their friends.

But he should let them believe that. As long as they believed that, they wouldn't suspect the truth.


	11. Crush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crush: a quick, decisive win.

Guilin, China.

Wanda had never imagined a place like this existed on Earth. It didn't seem real. It seemed like a landscape from a fairy tale. Green hills of seemingly impossible steepness rose straight up from among the buildings of the city.

She and Nat had come to a park next to the river at dawn. It had a view of a hill with a cave through it that made it look like the head of an elephant drinking from the river.

"That's called Elephant Trunk Hill," Nat said.

"It's beautiful! This whole place is. Can you imagine living here, seeing this view every day?"

Nat shrugged. "You get used to what you see every day. Live in a place like this your whole life, you wouldn't even get why tourists come from around the world to gawk at your hills."

They wandered the park for a few minutes. Some trees were flowering, some trees were covered in moss and ferns. One tree they came to was surrounded by sculptures of what appeared to be various monsters with enormous gaping mouths.

"What are these?" Wanda asked.

Nat walked around them, frowning at the inscriptions. "The big gold ones are a dragon and phoenix. The other ones...I don't know."

"They're kind of cute," she said. "Can you read the words?"

"The red character between the phoenix and the dragon says _yuan._ It means a predestined connection. The dragon and phoenix together symbolize union, like a marriage." She walked around the sculptures. "I'm guessing these are the names of other mythological animals; most of these characters I've never seen before."

"They're called 'the Nine Sons of the Dragon'," said Vision from behind them.

Wanda turned to him. She'd been so absorbed in the scenery she hadn't even sensed his approach. At the sight of him, a warmth spread through her that blossomed into a smile on her lips.

Vision walked around the sculpture, reading off the names. "The Bixi, the Taotie, the Bi'an, the Pulao, the Chiwen, the Suanni, the Qiuniu, the Yazi, and the Jiaotu."

"Show-off," Nat teasingly chided him.

"It helps to have a satellite-enabled internet connection in your brain," Vision said apologetically.

"Where can I get me one of those?" Nat replied.

"I think you would have to take it up with Ultron. Or perhaps Tony could be persuaded to look into designing cybernetic enhancements for human brains."

Wanda laughed.

Vision turned toward her, looking suddenly nervous. "It is good to see you again. I'm glad you came."

"Thanks."

"You changed the color of your hair," he noted.

She reached self-consciously for her hair, which she'd bleached and dyed a dark blond, and pulled back in a tight French braid, which was a style she wasn't used to. "Yeah. To be less recognizable. Nat says to change our appearance every month or two."

"It's harder to ID a moving target," Nat stated.

"You chose a great place for a meeting," Wanda said. "I didn't know a place this beautiful existed."

"The hills of Guilin have been a popular subject of Chinese painters for centuries. I have wanted to find a reason to come here and see it for myself for some time. And since it is a popular tourist destination, I figured it would be a low-profile place for a handoff." He directed this last statement to Nat, who nodded her approval.

"Are you going to stay and do some sightseeing?" Wanda inquired.

"That is my plan. I..." He hesitated a moment. "I have booked a hotel for tonight. I will be leaving tomorrow. It will be the longest I have been away from New York on my own."

"Are you worried someone will notice you're gone?" Nat asked.

"That is a risk, but not a large one. Given the frequency of contact with Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes, I estimate there is less than a ten-percent chance they will try to contact me during the days I'm away." He looked at Wanda. "I was wondering if you might be willing to play a game of chess with me? I brought a set with me."

"I would love to," Wanda said.

"Why don't you go sightseeing with him? Make a day of it," Nat suggested. "We're less likely to be recognized the fewer of us are seen together. If we split up, we could all see the town. I could take Steve, and Clint could take Sam and Scott. We could meet up at the rendezvous point at midnight."

Wanda's stomach fluttered at the idea of spending a day with Vision. She looked at him questioningly.

"I would be delighted to have your company," he said.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to slow you down." She held her breath waiting for his answer.

"I am sure."

"Then I'd love to."

Vision handed a small envelope to Nat without comment. She accepted it with a quiet "Thank you." To Wanda she said, "See you at midnight. Keep a low profile. Don't take any chances."

"I know the drill."

Nat nodded, but she said to Vision, "Take good care of her."

Wanda was surprised to sense that, despite the fact that Nat had been the one to suggest their separation, she was worried about her. She was nervous about Wanda not being under the team's protection for the whole day.

"Nat, I'll be fine," she assured her.

"I know."

They parted ways.

After acertaining that Wanda had eaten breakfast, Vision took her to a park where there were two picturesque pagodas. One, the Moon Pagoda, was on the shore of a lake, and the other, the Sun Pagoda, was in the lake, only reachable by a tunnel from the Moon Pagoda. The interiors were beautifully decorated with paintings and calligraphy on the wood pannels of the doors and walls.

After the park, Vision took Wanda to a tea tasting. Since there were cups where tasters could spit the tea to keep the flavors of different teas from influencing each other, Vision was able to participate without endangering his cover.

The woman who ran the tea shop was named Chen Yinchun. She spoke flawless English.

"So where are you two from?" she asked as she poured samples of a longjing tea in tiny teacups.

Vision froze. Wanda read his panic as his mind went blank.

"He's from England," she said, the obvious lie based on his accent. "I'm originally from California..." She figured she'd watched enough movies and TV shows set in San Francisco that she could talk about it as if she was from there. Her accent was the riskiest tell. "But I've moved around a lot. Right now, we're living in New York City."

"Are you here on your honeymoon?" Yinchun asked.

This time it was Wanda who froze.

Vision spoke quickly enough to cover her silence. "How did you guess?"

Yinchun smiled triumphantly. "The light in your eyes when you look at each other." She clasped her hands together. "Gongxi!"

"Xiexie," Vision replied.

"Thank you," Wanda said, hoping she wasn't blushing.

Vision bought Wanda a tin of osmanthus tea, a Guilin specialty. Yinchun gave them a small red macramé heart with a character on it—囍—that she explained meant "double happiness," a wish for their marriage.

"I apologize if that was uncomfortable," Vision said as they walked away from the tea shop. "I just...could not think of a better explanation for our vacationing together than the one she presumed..."

"It's fine, Vizh," Wanda said laughingly. "It was too good a cover story to pass up."

After a quick lunch of beer-battered fish, they visited a historic mansion that had been converted into a museum, then they ascended Solitary Beauty Peak.

Wanda took a minute near the top to take in the view. Gazing at the hills beyond the city, she commented, "Can you imagine just being able to fly around there?"

"Maybe someday we can," Vision replied.

She looked at him and smiled. It would probably never happen, but it was a beautiful thought.

She took Vision's hand to let him help her up a few extra steep steps without even thinking about it. He didn't immediately release her hand.

This was what a date felt like, she realized. This whole day felt like a date.

* * *

"Check."

Vision rested his chin in his hand as he contemplated the board.

They were in his hotel room with the curtains closed, and he'd dropped his phased disguise when Wanda said she wanted to see his real face. She'd sensed hesitance, and a feeling of vulnerability when he phased back, as if even here in private he was worried he'd be seen, and Wanda had felt sorry for her request. After all, looks shouldn't matter; what mattered was what was on the inside.

But, damn, she'd missed his face. She could barely take her eyes off him long enough to examine the board.

There were only two places he could move to get out of check. He made his decision and pulled his king back. She was surprised by the move, as it gave his king a narrower range of possible moves and put him at risk of being pinned behind his remaining pawns.

The wisdom of his choice became clear when on his next move he went on the offensive, checkmating her in six moves.

"You win again," she said with a smile. "Good game."

"Same to you."

"How many games have you beaten me in a row?"

"I believe this one makes it thirty-six."

"Sounds right. Want to play again?"

He flashed a smile at her and started replacing his chessmen. "I have sometimes wondered why you continued to play with me even though I usually win."

"Because it's fun, and the challenge makes me a better player. And..." Her voice softened as she dared to add, "it gave me a good excuse to spend time with you."

His fingers stilled. He looked up at her, his eyes overflowing with gratitude for that sentiment. He reached across the table hesitantly and lightly rested his hand on hers. "Thank you."

She smiled, thrilled at the touch. She placed her free hand over his. She thought over the day, the way they'd held hands at Solitary Beauty Peak, how the woman at the tea shop said she could see the light in their eyes when they looked at each other. She thought about their embrace in the woods in Vancouver. She wondered so often if he felt for her what she felt for him. She thought of the symbolism of the character painted in red between the dragon and phoenix Nat had told her about, the red double-happiness decoration from the tea shop. She didn't believe in fate, but it did almost feel like the universe had been dropping hints for her all day.

And she'd been holding Vision's hand for over a minute and he hadn't pulled away.

She lifted his hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to the back of his fingers.

Vision's hand slid between hers. His fingers caressed her cheek. The moment seemed hazy and dreamlike.

And then he froze.

"Wanda..."

There was an apology in his tone.

"I'm sorry." She immediately dropped his hand and stood up, horrified by her boldness. "I don't know what came over me. It's just that I love you. Oh my God!" She slapped her hand over her mouth. She couldn't believe that had just slipped out. What a moment ago had felt like a dream had turned into a nightmare. Her heart was pounding. She couldn't look at him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I can't believe I just said that."

"Wanda..."

"I mean as a friend. Of course I love you as a friend." She couldn't believe she'd screwed up this badly, ruined what had been a perfect day.

"Wanda." His tone was firmer, and compelled her to look at him. She read compassion and confusion and regret from him. She didn't speak as she waited with trepidation for what he would say. "Your friendship means so very much to me. Your regard and...affection for me mean more to me than I can say. But I'm not human. I can't feel for you what you could feel for me. All I could offer you would be a simulation of love. It wouldn't be real."

She shook her head. "You're synthetic. Synthetic doesn't mean fake. You're just as real as anyone. Your feelings matter just as much as anyone's."

"I...I'm not sure that's true. You deserve to be with someone who can mirror your feelings."

Wanda wasn't sure if he really believed he wasn't human enough to love, or if he just didn't feel that way about _her,_ and she had just been imagining vibes from him because she'd wanted them to be there. Either way, he wasn't interested. It took her a moment to come to terms with that fact. It stung, but she found that it didn't change how she felt. Learning her love was unrequited didn't make it disappear.

"I'm sorry, Wanda," he said when she didn't say anything. "I wish I were different. I wish I could love you. I wish I were human."

"Please don't. I don't. Vision, I love you." Now that she'd accepted it herself she couldn't deny that fact to him. "I love you as you are, everything that you are. And if what you are is someone who can't love me back, I wouldn't change even that." She sat down at the table, took a deep breath, and put aside her embarrassment and disappointment. "Let's play another round," she said, smiling without looking at him, determined to move past her awkward confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gōngxǐ (gohng shee): "Congratulations"
> 
> Xièxiè (shyeh shyeh): "Thank you"


	12. Blunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blunder: a puzzlingly bad move.

Vision sat in his room, thinking over what had transpired.

He would always treasure his memories of that wonderful day in Guilin, but the memory of his exchange with Wanda between games of chess in his hotel room felt like a jagged knife stuck in his chest.

He'd hurt her. He hated that he'd hurt her.

He stared at the macramé heart from the tea shop, which he'd set on his bookshelf. Wanda had insisted he keep it, since it had been a gift to both of them, and she was keeping the tea. He had agreed, figuring that after his rejection the symbolism of the heart might be painful to her. But a quiet doubt in his mind whispered that maybe he'd kept it for another reason.

Wanda deserved better than him. She deserved to be in love with another human, someone who could share her experiences, share her life, understand her and be understood by her in ways they could never have.

But she didn't love another human; she loved _him._

He still felt where she'd held his hand, where she'd kissed his fingers. He recalled how soft and warm her skin had been as he ran his fingers over her cheek.

And he couldn't forget noticing the sharp contrast of the bright red of his fingers against the pale peach of her cheek. The sharp, sharp contrast...

He wasn't human. No matter how good his disguise was, he never would be.

But if that didn't matter to her, why should it matter to him? If the only reason he had rejected her was his fear that being with him would prevent her happiness, but his rejection caused her to be unhappy, where was the logic in that?

He couldn't love her the way she loved him.

But he could love. He loved life, he loved the world, he loved many things. Perhaps the ways he could love were not inferior to the ways a human could love. Perhaps the ways he could love her would be enough for her.

It seemed like an unsolvable dilemma. His mind went in circles for hours, cycling between the reasons what he'd said to her had been right and the reasons he'd been wrong.

Tony opened the door without even knocking.

"Mr. Stark," Vision greeted him neutrally.

"Where have you been?"

"Here."

"Where were you yesterday and the day before? I came here and I couldn't find you anywhere."

"I'm sorry. I was not aware I require your permission to leave the premises."

Tony stared at him. "If Ross knew you'd left without telling anyone, without anyone knowing where you were, there would be serious concerns."

"Because Ross considers me a weapon, not a citizen. A weapon, to be safely stored away, accounted for, until I am needed."

"You know I know you're more than that, right?"

"But you must know where to find me at all times?"

Tony frowned. "Honestly, when I couldn't find you, I was worried about you. I didn't ask anyone if they knew where you were because I didn't want Ross to hear you were gone, and I couldn't think of anyone you'd be more likely to tell than me."

"You need not worry. I can take care of myself."

"I know, but..." He shook his head, perplexed, "where did you _go?_ Where _could_ you go?"

Vision didn't want to attempt a lie, but he would not tell Tony about his ability to disguise himself. "If I am free, I could theoretically go wherever I want. And if I am not free, I believe I have the right for you to inform me of that fact, and—out of curiosity—to know how you intend to detain me."

Something flickered in Tony's eyes. Was it fear? Was he afraid of him?

"Of course you're free. As far as I'm concerned, you have every right to leave. But if you're seen out and about without permission, Ross is going to get nervous, and that makes me nervous. If you tell me when you leave and where you go, I can cover for you, tell Ross you're out on an official Avengers mission."

That would only be a concern if Vision were recognized, and he wouldn't let that happen. "I will keep that in mind. Was there something in specific you wished to discuss with me?"

"No. I was just here to inspect the compound for office space and thought I'd drop by and say hi."

"I see."

"I'll be dropping by more often. I'm going to shift my base of operations from Stark Tower to here."

Vision would need to install a lock on his door.

"I'll see you around," Tony said.

"Yes."

When he left, Vision stood and moved to where Tony had been standing; could he see the heart from this angle?

Yes. The heart was visible, though not prominent. Tony may or may not have noticed it.

He picked it up, intending to find a place to hide it, but he stopped, noticing how closely it blended with the color of his hand.

Since the tea had been for Wanda, this trinket should also have been hers.

Wanda had given him her heart.

Wanda said she loved him even if he couldn't love her.

Ross considered him a weapon. Tony said he knew he was more than a weapon. Wanda didn't see him as a weapon at all. Wanda wasn't afraid of him. Granted, that might have been because she could overpower him, but whatever the reason, the consequence was the same.

Wanda loved him for what he was.

Why had he been such a fool? Why had he led Wanda to think he didn't want her, when she was what he wanted most in the world?


	13. Remis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remis: a draw (from French "reset")

It was a cold, cloudy winter morning in Paris. There were only two customers at the al fresco table in front of the café on a quiet backstreet. Due to the hats and scarves both wore, Vision wouldn't have recognize Natasha and Wanda if he hadn't known they would be waiting for him.

Actually, he hadn't been sure Wanda would come this time. Despite her assurances that his friendship meant too much to her for his rejection of her romantic overture to sour it, he had feared she wouldn't want to see him again.

He slowed as he approached, nervous about talking to her.

But Wanda looked up and smiled at him. That smile made the day seem brighter.

"You made it," Nat commented. "Have a seat."

"Thank you."

He joined them at the table. Both women had their hands wrapped around cups of coffee, with paper bags bearing crumbs from breakfast pastries on the table in front of them. Wisps of steam rose from the cups and were quickly dispersed in the cold air.

"This isn't quite as inconspicuous a meeting place as your last choice," Nat said. "We're lucky it's the off-season, or there would be a much higher chance someone would recognize us."

"I considered that, but I figured you would know Paris well enough to blend in."

"That's true," Nat conceded.

"And Paris was one of the places you wanted to go most," Wanda commented, alluding to their conversation in the Vancouver woods.

"Yes." His eyes rested on her. Her hair was still blond, and a few tufts of it hung down from her hat to frame her face. "Thank you for coming. It's good to see you again."

"You too."

They fell quiet for a moment. Wanda took a few sips of her coffee.

"I plan to do some sightseeing today," he said. "I would like...I would appreciate your company. If..." He wanted to talk to her alone. He needed to talk to her. But his instinct for politeness forced him to hedge. "If you would like to."

"I would love to," she said without reservation.

Nat inquired about Tony and Rhodey. Vision inquired about Steve, Sam, and Clint. When Nat finished her coffee, she stood and said, "Rendezvous point at twenty-two hundred."

"I'll be there," Wanda assured her.

After she finished her coffee, Wanda and Vision started walking down the street.

"Where would you like to go?" Wanda asked, tucking her hands in her coat pockets against the chill.

"I thought we might go to the Arène de Lutèce first, since it's nearby. We can decide where to go next from there."

"Sounds good."

He looked at her from the corner of his eye as they walked, trying to build up the courage to say what was on his mind. But she seemed so serene; he didn't want to upset that.

"Is this your first time in Paris, Wanda?"

"Yes," she answered, smiling wistfully. "I've always wanted to come here, ever since seeing a picture of the Eiffel Tower when I was a little girl, even before I knew where it was. But it was like a wish I didn't really believe could come true. Like, maybe I'll win a million euros, maybe I'll be found by a long-lost relative, maybe I'll go to Paris. It was almost like it wasn't a real place at all, just a fairytale."

"I'm sure this is not the season you imagined when you dreamed of visiting," Vision commented as he led them onto the path to the Arène de Lutèce, the ruins of an ancient Roman arena encircled by spindly, leafless trees, deserted at the moment but for the two of them.

She shrugged, smiling. "Paris is Paris."

Vision marveled at her. In this place she had dreamed of since childhood, instead of being disappointed that it didn't live up to her expectations, she was just happy to be here at all. Perhaps she would feel the same about being in a romantic relationship with him.

"Wanda, I need to say something."

"You don't have to," she said, still smiling but with a tightness in her voice and a fear in her eyes that revealed her feelings eloquently: she was content to go on as they were, but had been hurt enough by his rejection that she didn't want to revisit it.

He looked at her, at her beautiful face, to remind himself why he needed to correct his mistake. "I've been thinking about what you said. I've been able to think of little else..."

She glanced at him, then looked down at their feet as they slowly walked across the arena. "I said how I felt, and you said how you feel, and...we can leave it at that. We can move on."

He looked away. They walked parallel to each other with only about a foot between them, but the distance felt like a chasm.

"I did not say how I truly feel," he said quietly and carefully. "It is true that I'm not sure...of my own capacities. I don't know if I can love you as a human could love you. I don't know what that feels like, and I don't know if I ever can know. However, I possess a deep, compelling impulse to protect you, to do everything in my power to make you happy. And I am never happier than when I am with you."

From the corner of his eye he saw Wanda look at him again. Her step slowed, but didn't stop, and she didn't speak.

He continued. "I don't know if I can be enough for you, if it could work. But, if you...still feel as you did before...I would like to try. If I am not too late."

Wanda stopped. He turned to her, waiting for her to say something.

"Do you mean it?" she asked, not with hope but with uncertainty.

In answer, he stepped up to her, very slowly dipped his head, and touched his lips to hers. He had never kissed before, and was worried that he might kiss too hard and hurt her.

She had no such hesitance. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, more insistently.

Was this how humans felt when they kissed? This sense of warmth and connection?

When the kiss ended, Wanda clung to him, leaning on him slightly as if she were dizzy or weakened.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm great. That was intense."

"Wanda..." He would have to remember to refrain from using her name when they were around others. But here, alone, he breathed it slowly, savoring the sound and feel of it as it vibrated his lips, which seemed more sensitive than usual.

"Yes, Vision?"

"I would like to take you to the Eiffel Tower."

"I would like that."

They walked out of the Arène de Lutèce hand in hand.

* * *

Due to it being a chilly day mid-week in the tourist off-season, there hadn't been an extaordinarily long line for the Eiffel Tower. At the top, the wind added to the cold, but Wanda didn't mind, especially when Vision noticed her shivering and wrapped his arms around her.

She covered his hand with hers, tracing her fingers over his fingers and knuckles. It was incredible: Vision was willing to give them a chance.

In spite of the gray clouds hanging over the view, the city looked bright and welcoming, full of adventure and mysteries. Not just the city, the whole world seemed like that at the moment. She wondered if that was because she was seeing it from the Eiffel Tower, and she was transfering the feelings she'd always associated with it to the rest of the world. Or was it because she was sharing the view with Vision, looking at it while in his arms.

She moved her gaze from the vista to his face. He turned his head to look back at her. His eyes were his eyes; the mix of warmth, tranquility, curiosity, and intelligence in them was as recognizable in the face of an ordinary human as in his synthezoid face.

She wasn't sure which of them moved first, but in a moment their lips met.

After a few moments, she remembered they were in public and drew away, only to see that of the dozen or so people around them, no one was looking at them. Everyone was too absorbed in admiring the view, taking selfies, or mooning over their own dates to take any interest in them. They were unrecognized.

She turned back to the view, leaning her head back to rest on Vision's shoulder.

She wouldn't say she loved him again. She had said it and didn't need to repeat it, now that he knew, and didn't want to pressure him to feel like he had to say it back. So instead she said, "I'm happy."

He held her closer. "So am I."

There was one check on her happiness, one caveat that would always dim her mood. Even in her happiest moments she would wish Pietro were alive to share them.

He would never have approved of her being in love with Vision. Never.

But that wouldn't have stopped her.

After the Eiffel Tower, they went to a couple of museums. Then Vision took Wanda to a private booth in a quiet restaurant, where no one would notice that he didn't eat.

They ended the night with a walk through winding streets, getting to the square Nat had designated as their primary rendezvous point about ten minutes early.

Wanda only meant to give Vision a quick kiss goodnight...

* * *

Nat rounded some trees and spotted two people standing on the path. She recognized Vision immediately, from his height and the fact that he was suspiciously underdressed for the freezing night. He and Wanda were engaged in heavy kissing that maybe didn't quite qualify as making out.

No, it definitely qualified.

Nat backed up several steps, then turned and walked around the square, approaching them from another direction and making sure her shoes slapped against the sidewalk loudly enough to signal her presence.

Wanda and Vision drew away from each other just as she rounded the corner this time.

"Are you ready to go?" Nat asked. The others were waiting at the hidden Quinjet.

"Almost." She unconsciously reached toward Vision, and he rested his fingers in her palm. "When can I see you again?"

"Three weeks." He took a folded envelope out of his pocket and put it in her hand. "The coordinates."

"I hope it's somewhere a little further from civilization next time," Nat commented.

"Would an uninhabited island in The Bahamas be suitable?" he asked jokingly.

Nat considered it. It would be much easier for the six Rogue Avengers in a Quinjet to get to and escape from a deserted island than a special ops team, unlike Paris. Not that she didn't trust Vision, but she always considered contingencies.

"This is, what, your third date and you're already planning a vacation to the tropics? That's confidence," Nat joked.

Wanda and Vision both dropped their eyes, looking at their joined hands, realizing how incredibly obvious their changed relationship status was.

They looked at each other, and whispered quick goodbyes, then Wanda went with Nat to the car she'd stolen to make their getaway.

In the car, Wanda stared at the envelope in her lap.

"I don't know how much longer he can keep this up, this secretly helping us. He's going to get caught, or he's going to go broke," she said.

"We'll deal with that if it happens. We have enough present problems to worry about without trying to grapple with future problems." After a few seconds, she added, "Don't let fears about what you might lose, or regrets about what you have lost, stop you from enjoying something good while it lasts."

Wanda nodded, but didn't reply.

Later, once they'd gotten to their current hideout in a derelict resort in the Swiss Alps and the others had retired for the night, Clint took Nat aside for a word in private.

"What possessed you to let Wanda spend the day alone with Vision? It could have been a trap."

"You didn't complain about it in Guilin," Nat pointed out.

"That was unplanned, unpremeditated. Today they could have had time to set an ambush. Wanda is the one of us they want to get their hands on most. If they send her back to the Raft..."

"Vision wouldn't betray her."

"How can we know that?"

"I've seen them together," she answered. "They're in love."

Clint jolted. "They're in love?"

Nat nodded.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"How is that possible?"

She shrugged. "It just is."

He frowned. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"Because you feel protective of her, but this is a good thing. Vision's already broken the law for her. If she's captured, he won't let them keep her."

"I hope you're right," he said.


	14. Bare King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bare King: when one side has lost all pieces but the king.
> 
> Author's note: this chapter will earn this story its M-rating toward the end.

The term "desert island" conjured images of a place like this. It was a spot of land about 20 yards wide and about three times as long, the largest of a string of islands close enough together that you could toss a rock from one to the next. These islands were too small to land a conventional aircraft on. They were surrounded by a few square miles of shallow reefs that made it impossible to safely approach by boat, and they had no natural source of fresh water. The islands were so small and inconsequential they didn't appear on any map. There wasn't an inhabited island within sight in any direction.

The Quinjet was parked at the island's highest point, at the edge of a 10-foot cliff along the western shore. When they'd landed in stealth mode, cameras sent images to the jet's computer system, which sent commands to millions of liquid crystal panels on its shell that altered their color and even reflectivity to match the area around it. This dynamic camouflage remained when the jet was powered down, currently resulting in the jet being sky blue on the bottom and mottled yellows, browns, and greens on the top, making it almost impossible to spot from any airplane that might happen to pass overhead.

There had been a long discussion about the safest way to handle the next hand-off from Vision. Wanda had proposed the others drop her off on the island and come back for her the next day. No one else was willing to do that. They had talked about splitting into two groups, one staying on the island and the other hiding out somewhere else, but they couldn't agree who would be in which group and which group would have the Quinjet. Nat finally made the executive decision that they would all just camp out on the island.

A few palm trees grew along the beach, but otherwise the vegetation consisted of grasses and shrubs. The terrestrial wildlife seemed to be limited to crabs and a few species of seabirds, but the ocean around it was teaming with fish, sea anemones, star fish, shellfish, and seagrass. Scott swore he'd seen a manatee, but no one else saw it. Wanda hadn't even known what that was.

Clint, Nat, and Sam took turns wading out in the water and shooting fish with Clint's bow and a short, thin arrow with a fishing line fixed to it. They cooked the fish over a small fire on the beach and drank beer by the bottle from a cooler. They joked and told stories like they were friends on a camping trip, instead of former superheroes on the run from the law.

Wanda tried to laugh along with the others, but she had a feeling they could tell her thoughts were elsewhere. She wondered if any of them secretly suspected an ambush.

As the sun set, they extinguished the fire and set out sleeping bags above the high-tide mark.

Steve and Scott had the first watch, because even on an uninhabited island miles away from anywhere they could never really let their guard down.

Wanda listened to the sounds of the waves on the beach and the wind in the palm fronds and tried to let them sooth her to sleep. She tried not to worry that Vision might not come, that an Avengers mission had come up, or that he might have been caught.

She slept uneasily, waking up to check the time every hour or two until 4 a.m., when it was her and Nat's turn to keep watch.

"Don't worry; he'll be here," Nat said after Wanda checked the time twice in five minutes.

"What if he isn't?"

Nat rolled her eyes. "Then he'll contact us with other plans. Don't worry about it."

Wanda nodded, staring into the sky where the stars were beginning to fade into the gradually encroaching blue. "I can't help worrying about him."

"You do realize your boyfriend is the least destructible person on the planet, right?"

Wanda didn't answer. It was a little startling to hear someone call Vision her boyfriend.

A few minutes later, Wanda opened her phone to check the time again. "Something's wrong. He's late."

"He's two minutes late."

"He's never late." Wanda felt panic rising, and tried to suppress it.

"Relax," Nat ordered. She casually lifted her binoculars to her eyes. She pointed to a spot to the west. "There he is."

Wanda grabbed the binoculars.

It took her a minute to find Vision in the dark sky, a silhouette against the blue glow of the early dawn. As he grew closer, she discerned the glow of the Mind Stone, like a star that had left its place in the heavens to find its way to her. She watched him approach, lowering the binoculars when he neared the island. As he slowed to land, his cape fluttered behind him in the morning wind, she caught her breath. He was the most majestic sight she'd ever seen.

And his eyes were fixed on her.

Wanda ran to him. He reached toward her, taking her hands.

"I missed you."

"I missed you as well." He let go of one of her hands to run his fingers through her hair and cup her cheek. She could feel his happiness and relief at seeing her radiating off his mind, as well as an unexpected fatigue.

"You're exhausted," she noted in surprise.

"Flying here from Miami took more energy than I anticipated. It will take a few minutes for the Mind Stone to replenish me."

Nat cleared her throat, and Vision looked at her for the first time since he landed. "Ms. Romanov."

"You flew here from Miami? Even in the middle of the night, that was a stupid risk. Someone might have seen you."

"I was several miles out of the urban area. The risk was low," he said defensively.

"There could be fishing boats out on the water anywhere between the Florida coast and here. You're not flying back; we'll drop you off in the jet tonight."

His face dropped at the reprimand from his former instructor. "I did not consider...how significant a risk that would pose."

"You need to keep in mind that you're not considering things as clearly as usual right now." She glanced pointedly at Wanda.

Vision nodded sheepishly.

Nat walked away, giving them a semblance of privacy.

Wanda wrapped her arms around him, and he returned the embrace. Wanda wanted more, but she could still feel his exhaustion. "You should take a rest. I'll be here when you wake up."

He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it so softly it almost tickled. "Thank you."

* * *

Vision awoke an hour and a half later. The sun had risen, and he could hear voices from the other side of the island. Wanda was sitting nearby, reading a book. She looked up when she saw him moving, and smiled.

"Feel better?"

"Yes. My energy levels have returned to normal." He sat beside her, gazing at her face in the fresh morning sunlight. She kept her eyes on her book, smiling shyly, pretending she didn't know he was staring at her.

"Hey Wanda, breakfast's ready!" Sam called.

"Be right there!" She closed her book and stood. "Come on."

"Would I be welcome?"

"Of course."

As they walked through the cluster of palm trees to the group sitting in a circle around a fire on the beach, Vision slowed. "Everyone is present."

"No one wanted to miss out on some time at the beach," Wanda said.

He stared at the five fugitives sitting around the fire. "This is an extraordinary expression of trust."

"We've been trusting you with Wanda for long enough," Clint noted. "Kind of figured if you weren't going to try to take her on alone you wouldn't dare take us all on."

Vision had the impression there was some deeper meaning behind his joke.

Steve stood up and extended a hand to him. "You've been helping us out a lot. I'm happy for the chance to express my gratitude in person."

He nodded as he accepted the handshake. "I felt I had to do something."

Wanda sat on the sand and Sam handed her a plate of pancakes. Vision sat beside her.

He noticed Scott Lang peering at him curiously.

"So Wanda tells me you're a synthetic human," he said when he realized Vision had noticed his stare.

"Yes."

"I'm really curious, how do you fly? What's the mechanism behind it?"

"I can alter my density to become lighter than air."

"But you don't expand like a balloon; you stay the same size."

"True."

"But matter can't be created or destroyed, so where does that mass go?"

"I honestly don't know. It has to do with a property of vibranium that has yet to be explained by physics."

"How do you pass through solid objects? That time you flew right through me was the weirdest experience of my life, and it is up against some tough competition there."

"I believe it is also related to my ability to change my density," Vision tried to explain.

"But no matter how low your density is, that wouldn't enable you to move through a wall. Air has pretty low density, but can't pass through solid objects."

"I don't know what mechanism enables me to phase. It is an ability I discovered that I possess, but I can't explain it."

"Does it hurt?"

"No, but it is an unusual sensation. With nothing to compare it to, I can't adequately describe it."

"Fascinating," Scott said.

Vision leaned forward. "Do you suppose my abilities to alter my density may be related to the mass-to-inertia discrepency observed with the use of Pym particles?"

"How did you know about that?" Scott asked.

"After our initial encounter, I read all I could find of Dr. Pym's published research."

"That's exactly what I've been wondering. Even though there's no known connection between Pym particles and vibranium, there has to be some underlying physical principle in common."

"Do we really have to discuss physics at the breakfast table?" Clint asked.

"I think it's a really interesting discussion," Sam said.

After breakfast, Sam and Clint engaged in some archery practice using pieces of driftwood as targets while Wanda, Nat, Scott, and Vision had a chess tournament in the Quinjet.

Even though it was winter, it was warm enough in the early afternoon that some of the Rogue Avengers decided to go swimming.

Vision tried not to stare when Wanda came out of the jet wearing a teal bikini with a loose-knit shawl over it.

She smiled at him shyly. "It's a little chilly," she said to explain the covering.

"Oh," was all he could think to say.

Vision felt overdressed, sporting his uniform and cape while everyone else wore typical beach attire. When Wanda was occupied by looking at a shell, he phased his outfit into simple black swim trunks. He'd never worn a swimsuit before. In fact, he'd never been covered by so little since the night he emerged from the cradle, and he felt suddenly and acutely exposed, vulnerable, with the fact he wasn't human on full display in the form of his crimson and vibranium torso. He immediately wanted to cover up, or phase into his human disguise before anyone saw him.

But Wanda straightened up and turned toward him before he could. She stopped and stared.

"What did you find?" he inquired.

It took her a couple of seconds to respond. "Um, yeah. Um...what?" She forced herself to turn her face up toward his, but her eyes quickly dropped down to his chest again.

"Did you find something?"

"Yeah. A...a...a shell." She held up a cockle shell with interesting black stripes.

He stepped closer to her and heard her breath catch. He no longer felt exposed or vulnerable; at her adorably flustered response to his bare torso—a response he never would have imagined he could inspire—he felt desireable. He had a strange impulse to sweep her up in his arms and fly away with her, which he quickly dismissed. Instead, he curled his hand around hers to look at the shell.

"It's beautiful," he said.

"Yes." She continued to gawk at him.

"Would you like to go swimming?" he asked.

"Uh...I don't...really..swim very well. I know how, but not well. I'm not a strong swimmer. I just learned how last year. And with the waves..."

"Would you like to if I stay by your side?"

"Okay," she said quickly.

They swam in the ocean with the others for a while, Vision never far from Wanda, though she was a better swimmer than she gave herself credit for.

The Rogue Avengers had an early supper around a small campfire on the beach. They shared stories, jokes, and friendly banter. It was odd, Vision contemplated, that technically he was surrounded by people he should consider his enemies, one of whom had the power to incapacitate him, yet he felt more welcomed and accepted than he had since the Avengers' rift. And when Wanda subtly slipped her hand into his, he felt more connected than he ever had in his life.

They made sure the fire was extinguished before the sun set, lest any passing planes or boats spot the suspicious point of light.

"Shall we go find a spot to watch the sunset?" Wanda suggested.

"Where do you have in mind?" Vision asked back.

"Let's just fly around and look for a quiet spot." Disks of red light surrounded her hands, and she levitated herself to the next island in the little chain. Vision noted that her control of her powers had improved in the months of their separation.

He flew after her. She stopped to wait for him. When he reached her, he acted on his earlier fantasy and lifted her into his arms.

She smiled.

He carried her over the next few islands, to the very last islet in the chain. It was only a few meters across, and probably would be completely submerged by the highest tides. The highest point was a driftwood log that had been worn smooth, partially buried in sand. Vision took a seat on the log, holding Wanda on his lap, his arms loosely looped around her waist as hers were around his neck.

For a few minutes they admired the slowly shifting golds and reds of the sunset in silence, reveling in their closeness.

Then Wanda turned her face toward him. He gazed back at her, at the way the orange light gleamed on her cheek and sparked in her eyes.

"Do you want me?" She asked. The tone of her question was not the least bit suggestive; it was shy, curious, nervous.

He touched the tip of his index finger to the corner of her lips. "Very much," he answered honestly.

Her eyes drifted closed.

Their kisses began slow, soft, and lingering, but gradually grew more heated. Their lips parted, tongues flicked out experimentally. Wanda's hands began exploring over Vision's bare back and chest, and Vision answered by caressing the soft skin of her back and waist.

Without breaking their kiss, Wanda swung one leg to the other side of Vision's hips and shifted her weight to straddle him. Vision felt a fluttering that was both pleasurable and wanting as his body thrilled in response to the contact with hers. Without thinking about it, he gripped her thighs to pull her closer.

She rolled her hips, rubbing herself against him. Her hands pressed against his back, her breasts on his chest.

He phased away his swimsuit.

If she had noticed his nakedness, she didn't seem to mind it. She continued to ply his lips with kisses as she rolled her hips over his newly exposed erection, increasing his pleasure with each movement.

Then Wanda slipped slightly. Her bikini bottom had shifted to the side, exposing her, and when she slipped, Vision's shaft slid into her—warm and wet and welcoming.

A quiet gasp escaped Wanda's lips. She lifted herself up, and for a moment Vision feared she would change her mind and draw away, but instead she brought her hips back down, taking him deeper. She did it again, and again.

At first, Vision could only stare at the beautiful, intoxicating look of ecstacy on Wanda's face. But as his own pleasure built, his eyes closed so he could more fully focus on the pure sensations of the experience. He put his hands on her hips and thrust up to meet her.

The sound that came out of Wanda's throat was something he couldn't categorize: it was gutteral and creaking and primal, and the most arousing thing he had ever heard.

Wanda wrapped her legs and arms around him, and put her chin on the back of his shoulder, her neck across his neck, holding him as close as they could possibly be. They were moving together now, undulating in tandem.

Vision felt the visceral bliss climb higher and higher inside him, each moment more than he would have thought possible, and then suddenly it overflowed, coursing through him in a flood. The way Wanda squeezed around him made him think she felt it too.

The next moment, Wanda's movements slowed. She pressed her lips into his shoulder.

He ran his hands up and down her back.

"You're still hard," she noted. He was still inside her. She'd made no move to change that.

"My body doesn't produce semen," he explained. "I orgasmed, but did not ejaculate."

"So I don't have to worry about getting pregnant?"

"No, I don't believe that would be possible."

She lifted her head from his shoulder, leaning back enough to look at him. "That's good. I didn't even think about it." She smiled apologetically. "I got...a little carried away."

"We both did."

"I didn't mean for this to happen without really talking about it. I wanted to make sure you were ready..."

"Wanda, this is wonderful. I can't imgine a better first time."

She smiled with relief. "I'm glad."

He kissed her.

She kissed him back, and he felt her move around him, shifting closer.

They were going to get carried away again.

* * *

"Wanda and Vision have been gone a long time," Steve noted. He and the other Rogue Avengers were sitting on the beach drinking beer as they waited for darkness.

"They probably snuck off somewhere to have sex," Scott said.

Steve and Clint simultaneously spat out the sips of beer they'd just taken. Clint coughed.

"What? Were we not supposed to acknowledge that?" Scott asked.

"Give them a break," Sam joked. "Kids grow up so fast."

Nat smirked.


	15. Gardez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gardez: queen's check, from French "Gardez la reine" ("protect the queen")

Their latest hideout was an out-of-the-way farmhouse north of Lake Managua, Nicaragua. It had obviously been unused for a few months at least, but it had running water and electricity. No one had asked Natasha how she'd known about it, but it was obvious from the moment they walked in that she had been there before.

It was early morning. Not that time of day meant much for the Rogue Avengers' sleep patterns, since they rarely stayed in one place long enough to get used to the local time zone.

Wanda didn't know if anyone else was awake yet. She was in the kitchen heating water for oatmeal and tea when she heard a rumble, like a large truck. But the only road nearby was the dirt road leading to this farm.

Her first thought was that someone had found them, that it was an army truck come to attack them, or fighter jets flying over to bomb them.

The rumbling quickly got louder. Too quickly. The light began to sway. The dishes in the cupboard began to rattle. The framed painting of the Virgin Mary on the wall began to swing like a pendulum.

The lights flickered off and on and off.

This wasn't a bombing; she would have heard the explosions.

Earthquake?

Wanda had never been in an earthquake before, but she couldn't think of what else it could be. She realized her hands were glowing red; when she thought they were under attack, she had prepared to defend. Now she didn't know what to do. How did you defend yourself when the earth itself seemed to be trying to shake you off?

She darted toward the kitchen table, stumbling as the floor shook beneath her feet. On the floor, she curled into a ball.

Why wouldn't the shaking stop? It was going on so long.

The shaking finally slowed to stillness. She didn't come out of her hiding place, not trusting the house to hold together after that.

"Everyone okay?" Sam called.

"Yeah," Clint and Nat called at almost the same time.

"That had to be at least a five pointer!" Scott shouted, sounding almost giddy.

"Wanda?" Nat called.

"In here," she replied, her voice sounding weak to her own ears. "The kitchen."

The others gathered.

"Cap's out jogging," Sam said. "Wanda, you okay?"

"I'm okay. Nothing hit me."

He sat down on the floor next to the table. "But are you okay?"

"I thought we were being bombed." She looked at her hands, which were visibly trembling. "God..."

Scott crouched down and looked at her sympathetically. "First earthquake?"

"Yeah."

"You get used to them."

"I'd rather not."

Sam helped her up. Her legs felt unsteady beneath her, like the earth was still shaking a little.

Steve opened the door. "Is everyone okay?"

"I had an alarm clock fall on my head, but otherwise no injuries," Clint answered. "You?"

"I'm fine. That was my first time in an earthquake."

"It was a six point five," Nat said, looking at her phone. "Epicenter near Tegucigalpa."

"Center near Tegucigalpa, and we could feel it all the way here..." Clint said, sounding concerned.

"Yeah. It's going to be bad there. Really bad," Nat concurred. She glanced at Steve.

Uncertainty flickered on his face for just a second before it was replaced by resolve. "We're going."

Nat looked unhappy, but didn't argue.

There were lives to save.

* * *

They landed the Quinjet on a hillside in a forested park at the center of the city. They walked out into a scene of chaos: people in the streets, sirens wailing, bricks from damaged buildings littering the ground.

"We'll split up into three groups," Steve decided. "Clint and Scott, head north. Sam, Wanda, head west. Romanov and I will head south. Open comms, help where you can, call for backup if you find anything big."

Wanda and Sam soon found themselves in an older neighborhood that had been hit hard. There was a lot of damage to a few of the buildings.

One old house had partially caved in. A woman was trapped under some fallen beams in what had been the kitchen.

"Ayudame! Ayudame!" she called when she saw them. "Llama a la policía!"

Sam stooped to assess the situation. The woman's leg was obviously broken, and she was bleeding from several wounds.

"I think we can get this off her by hand if we lift it together."

"Okay," Wanda agreed.

They lifted the beam. The woman pushed herself up. Sam helped her sit up while looking over her injuries. She grabbed his sleeve.

"Por favor...mis hijos...dentro del dormitorio..."

"What did she say?" Wanda asked at the look of distress on Sam's face.

"There are kids in here. In the bedroom."

Wanda reached out with her power, sensing two living beings further inside the house. They were close to each other.

She floated herself over the pile of bricks and broken beams. The inside of the house was a wreck. The roof was sagging, fallen items and broken glass littered the floor.

Wanda was afraid to touch anything. She levitated herself through the room, cringing from the sense that the roof would fall in any minute.

She opened the door, finding a bedroom. The ceiling had fallen, but she felt two people alive and conscious beneath it.

She used her power to lift away the debris.

She saw motion under the bed as a child pushed away some chunks of plaster. It was a little boy, about ten. He lifted up a younger child, barely more than a toddler. The younger child wasn't making a sound, but had streaks of tears marking dusty cheeks and wide, frightened eyes.

For a moment, Wanda couldn't speak; she could only stare at them, remembering exactly how it felt to be that trapped, to be hopeless.

"It's okay," she said to them, wishing she knew any of their language. "Your mom's outside. I'm here to help you."

"Mamá?" the boy said, hope trembling in his voice.

Wanda made her way to the children, wrapped them both in her arms, and flew with them out of the room.

The woman stared at them. She tried to rise, but her broken leg and Sam's grip on her prevented her.

"Mamá!" the boy shouted.

Wanda put him down and he ran to her. The younger child nearly jumped out of Wanda's arms, and fell down twice trying to run to her.

"Ruy! Belén! Es un milagro!" She held her children, kissing their heads. She looked at Wanda with eyes overflowing with gratitude. "Milagros."

Wanda stared at the reunited family. She didn't even notice the sound of an approaching siren until Sam took her arm. "We better get out of here."

* * *

Scott and Clint, even without superpowers, found plenty of things they could do. Seeing smoke, they followed it to a house that had caught on fire. The earthquake had disrupted waterflow to the area, but Clint and Scott had organized the neighbors to haul water from the street gutter to douse the fire and keep it from spreading. As soon as it was under control, they'd moved on. They administered first aid to an elderly man with a head wound until his family found him, helped clear rubble from a street so an ambulance could get through, and loaned people their phones to text family and friends.

Then they came to a collapsed apartment building. The back wall and one side wall still stood, mostly, but the front and other side wall were lying in piles of concrete and broken boards. The roof had caved in. They could hear calls for help from inside. Several people were already working to clear the rubble. Scott and Clint joined them.

"We've got a collapsed residential building," Clint said over the open comm.

 _"Where?"_ Steve asked.

Clint checked his GPS and relayed their coordibates.

_"We'll be there as soon as we can."_

_"So will we,"_ Sam added.

Sam and Wanda arrived a few minutes later. They stared in shock at the scene. It was desperate. People trapped in the collapsed building might be dying by the minute.

Wanda stepped forward without a word. Her hands began to glow, the eerie red hue echoed by the largest chunks of broken concrete. She levitated them out ofthe way, depositing them in a pile off to the side, and turned her attention to the next layer.

The dozen or so good samaritans who had been clearing the rubble stared at her. "La Bruja Escarlata," and "Scarlet Witch" were whispered among them.

No one tried to stop her.

People began to emerge from the rubble, many from under tables and beds. The volunteers helped the survivors get to safety; those too injured to walk were carried.

"She's really impressive," Scott said, watching as Wanda levitated piles of broken furniture and wooden boards out of the way.

"You should've seen her fight Ultron," Clint replied.

When the rubble was cleared away, and everyone had been rescued from the building, Wanda slumped to the ground.

Scott and Clint sprinted to her.

"You okay?"

"Yes. Just a little tired. We should go."

Before they could leave, a man ran up to them and started talking to her in rapid Spanish.

She shook her head. "I can't understand you."

"He says there are three people trapped in a basement," Clint translated. "An office building. They were working in the newspaper office early this morning..."

The man kept talking, gesturing wildly.

"He's been talking to them on their cell phone. The ceiling caved in in the stairwell. They can't get out, and they said it's getting hard to breathe."

Wanda jumped to her feet. "Where's the building?"

"Dónde están?" Clint asked.

The man pointed to an office building just down the street.

The Avengers ran toward it.

"I should go in alone," Wanda said.

"Why?" Sam asked her.

"If things are still falling, I'll be able to protect myself more easily than I could protect someone else."

"You sure?"

"It will only be a few minutes."

"We'll keep on eye out here. Tell us if you need help."

"I will."

"And hurry," Clint added. "We've drawn a lot of attention."

She nodded, and entered the old building.

She'd been in less than a minute when Scott became aware of a distinctly disconcerting whirring sound.

"Uh oh," he said.

"Hide," Clint said.

They did. Sam went inside the office building, ignoring the danger to go after Wanda. Scott ducked between a tree and a wall across the street. He didn't see where Clint went, but when he glanced back he was gone.

A military helicopter lowered to the street near the collapsed apartment building. Half a dozen men in camo dropped out of it.

" _We've got military on site_ ," Clint said over the comm. _"Six men, heavily armed, combat gear."_

 _"Get out of sight and stay there,"_ Steve ordered.

Someone among the survivors from the building and the people giving them first aid must have said something, because a moment later, the soldiers were sprinting toward the office building where Wanda and Sam had gone. They surrounded it, apparently doing recon before entering.

 _"Sam, Wanda, they're going after you,"_ Clint said tensely. _"Don't respond, you'll risk giving away your position. Find somewhere to hide."_

The commline went silent.

Somewhere around the back of the building, someone shouted an order and some glass broke.

"They're going to find them."

Scott jumped at the sound of Clint's voice right behind him.

"Don't sneak up like that; you gave me a heart attack."

"Shh."

Scott dropped his voice to a whisper. "What are we gonna do?"

"We can't let them get Wanda."

Scott nodded. He remembered what they'd done to her in the Raft. It was inhuman. And these military guys might just decide she was too dangerous to take alive.

"What's the plan?"

"We distract them. Buy some time. Follow me."

Clint shot a grappling hook up to the top of the office building and climbed up to a second-story window, which he pried open and entered. Scott climbed up after him.

In the dim room they found themselves in, Clint handed him a small device from his backpack. "Know what this is?"

"Yeah. It's TNT. Why the hell do we have it? Your plan is to set off a bomb in an earthquake-damaged building?"

"It's a fake, a decoy. We need to plant it somewhere the army guys will find it before they find her." He opened the door.

In the hallway were all six of the soldiers, aiming very large guns in their direction.

"I admit, this isn't my best plan ever," Clint said, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"I'm pretty sure this is the most guns I've ever had pointed at me at one time," Scott said.

Clint smirked. "Amateur."

Scott held up the decoy TNT. "I've got a bomb. Shoot us, and we all die. Could you translate that?" he asked Clint.

A young, prim soldier who seemed to have more shoulder decorations than the others stepped forward. "No need. I speak English. And I overheard him tell you that bomb's a fake, so...nice try. Where is Wanda Maximoff?"

"Who?" Scott asked, playing dumb.

The commander rolled his eyes. "I know exactly who you are. Clint Barton, codenamed Hawkeye, and..." He frowned, then took out a deck of cards from his pocket and flipped through them "Scott Lang. Former Avengers, current internationally wanted criminals. I'll ask you one more time: where is Wanda Maximoff?"

"People are dying in the streets, and you're wasting your time going after us?" Clint asked.

"We were deployed here to prevent looting after the earthquake, but apprehending some fugitives seems like a priority to me. And since you are just wasting our time..." He made a gesture, and two of his soldiers pulled triggers.

Scott felt a sharp sting in his neck. But, to his surprise, he didn't die. "What the heck?" He reached up and found a dart stuck in his skin. "Oh, it's a tranquilizer."

He passed out on his way to the floor.


	16. Vacating Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vacating sacrifice: giving up a piece in order to clear a square for another piece.

Scott came to in a windowless room in a moving vehicle. He was lying on a bench, handcuffed to a rail.

Clint was sitting on a bench on the other side. He'd apparently recovered first.

"Where are we?" Scott asked.

"I don't know."

He squelched the impulse to ask about the others. The worried look on Clint's face said enough.

"What's the plan now?"

"Stay alive."

They rode in silence for a few minutes.

"You know," Scott said, trying to be optimistic, "if they'd gotten anyone else, they'd be in here with us."

"Maybe." He said it so dismally that it instantly conjured the thought Scott had left unspoken: if the the others had been taken _alive_.

After another beat, Scott said, "You're pretty protective of Wanda, I've noticed." If they were bugged, it wouldn't hurt to establish early there was no way they were going to turn on their friends.

Clint frowned thoughtfully. "We don't really talk about this. Her brother died saving my life."

"Pietro? I thought Ultron killed him."

"He took a few dozen bullets that were meant for me, courtesy of Ultron."

"Dang."

"I'm alive because of him, and because of me, Wanda doesn't have a brother."

Scott had no idea what to say to that. He knew Wanda was mourning the death of her twin, but the few times she'd talked about him, she'd never mentioned he'd died saving someone else's life.

"It was while we were evacuating Novi Grad. I went back for a straggler, a little boy. An Ultron showed up flying a jet, started shooting. I tried to shield the kid, but I was just sure I was about to die. I didn't just think it, I _knew_ it. I'd never see my family again, I'd never meet my baby. I hear the bullets, but none of them hit me. I turn around, Pietro Maximoff had moved a car in the way of the bullets. Until that moment, I'd hated him. I'd thought and said some terrible things about him, and he saved my life. Looking out for Wanda seems like the least I could do."

Scott nodded. He had no idea what that would feel like, for Clint or for Wanda.

"I hope I helped some," Clint added, staring at a wall.

They didn't talk again for a couple of minutes, lost in their own thoughts. They were captured, they didn't know where they were being taken, they didn't know if the others had been captured, or even if they were still alive. And all this because they'd tried to _help._

"Maybe they'll let me call my daughter," Scott mused, without adding out loud, _before they lock me in the Raft again._

An hour or so later, their ears started popping as the air pressure changed, then they came to a bouncing stop, confirming that they'd been in an airplane. A few minutes after that, the door opened and some heavily armed men in American Army uniforms entered. They uncuffed them from the rail, then cuffed their hands behind their back.

"We're supposed to take them to the cells or straight to the interrogation room?" one asked another.

"Interrogation room. Ross says he can't come today, but they need to question them asap. Shoot this one if he moves even a muscle without a direct order." He smacked Clint's shoulder. "He's supposed to be tricky."

"If you're afraid I'll do a flip and pull some ninja stunt, I promise you I'm not as young as I used to be," Clint said.

The man prodded him with his riffle. "Your mouth's a muscle and I didn't tell you to move it," he said harshly.

They were herded into an interrogation room and handcuffed to the table. Guards stood at attention in the corners of the room, but most of the other soldiers who'd escorted them in left the room.

"At least we're still in our own clothes. Orange really isn't my color," Scott joked.

"They must have searched us while we were knocked out. My weapons are gone."

"Huh." Scott couldn't tell if they'd searched him; he hadn't had any weapons to begin with, but he still had his wallet in his pocket and his watch on his wrist. That was good.

The door of the room opened, and two soldiers entered, including the one who threatened Clint earlier. He sat down in the chair across the table and addressed the two prisoners directly, with an air of reluctance. "An interrogator from the Department of Homeland Security will be here any minute. You're going to cooperate, and you're not going to try anything, or I will personally take you down so hard you'll be pissing upside down."

"What does that even mean?" Scott couldn't help but wonder.

"Don't get snarky with me. This is Gitmo; we can do whatever we want to you. And if you think your friends are coming to save you, we've got rooms reserved for them too."

There was a soft knock at the door. The soldier, who still hadn't identified himself, looked over his shoulder as a guard opened the door.

"Sorry for interrupting, but I have an appointment," the woman at the door said.

"Right." The soldiers backed off.

She sat down and slowly folded her hands on the table in front of her, fingers interlocking. "Hi. My name's Margaret Motley. I'm from the DHS. You can call me Margaret. Have they been treating you okay? Is there anything you need? Food? Coffee?"

Scott was about to say yes to the coffee, but Clint answered first.

"No. I'm under the impression you're pressed for time, so let's cut to the chase."

Her smile was almost apologetic. "I can see why you would think that, but my goal here isn't finding your colleagues. I'm here to help _you._ We want the same thing: to help you find the best way out of this."

Scott couldn't quite guess how old Motley was; she had a face that could have been anywhere from mid-twenties to late forties. She was thin, with short ginger hair, a long neck, and sharp features that were reminiscent of a famous bust from ancient Egypt of a queen whose name he couldn't remember. The way she was talking and looking at them seemed almost maternal.

"And let me guess, the more we cooperate, the better chance we have of getting out of here," Clint said cynically.

"We want to find a solution for all involved," she replied. "We know the Avengers are all good people. You're heroes. You've saved the world. But as long as your friends are on the run, they are in danger, and we won't be able to find any resolution for them if they don't come to the table and engage in a dialogue."

"It's funny that you talk about _coming_ to the table when we're chained to it," Clint replied, rattling his handcuffs for emphasis.

She frowned. "Could we get the handcuffs off them, Lieutenant Tindall?"

"Not a chance," replied the one who'd threatened them earlier. It was nice to put a name to the itchy trigger finger.

"Mr. Barton and Mr. Lang are reasonable gentlemen. They wouldn't try anything surrounded by armed soldiers in the middle of a secure military base."

"I wouldn't put anything past them."

Margaret turned her attention back to the prisoners. "Sorry. We'll just have to work with what we've got. Now, a series of unfortunate misunderstandings has put you all in a terrible predicament. I'm here to help you find a way out of it. And, honestly, that will be a lot easier if we had the cooperation of your colleagues. Steve, Natasha, Sam, and Wanda are in dire straits. The sooner we can make contact with them, the better chance we have to de-escalate and resolve this conflict without anyone getting hurt."

She sounded so legitimately concerned for them that Scott had to repeatedly remind himself not to trust her.

Clint didn't seem to have that problem. "You're wasting your breath. We don't know where they are. Our protocol is that if one of us gets captured, the rest scatter, and avoid any refuge we've been to before. They'll go somewhere we don't know about."

Lieutenant Tindall got a phone call and stepped out of the room.

"Mr. Barton, I understand why you'd want me to believe that, but I don't think Captain America would just leave behind two of his associates. He broke into the most secure prison in the world to rescue you in the first place." She looked at Scott. "What do you think, Mr. Lang? Do you think your friends will scatter, or do you think they'll look for you?"

"I don't know." He tried to back up Clint's lie. "I mean, we talked about it. The plan was if one of us got caught, everyone else go somewhere they don't know about."

Lieutenant Tindall came back in. "Change of plans. There's a request for a prisoner transfer, from the highest levels. An Avenger is on site to take custody of the prisoners and escort them back to the Raft."

"An Avenger?" the other soldier who'd entered with him asked in confusion.

"One of the good ones. The red guy."

"The robot?"

"Yeah."

Margaret rose. "Excuse me, I have to make a call."

When she was out of the room, Lieutenant Tindall ordered for the prisoners to be moved out. They were uncuffed from the table and handcuffed behind their backs again, then they were marched out of the room and down a corridor.

With the guards' attention momentarily off of them, Clint leaned toward Scott and whispered, "The interrogator's S.H.I.E.L.D."

"What?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D., the agency I used to work for."

"How do you know?"

"When she was folding her hands on the table, she crossed her thumbs before bringing her fingers together, making the shape of an eagle. That's our symbol. Plus, I think I've heard of her. One of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best interrogators was a woman codenamed 'Magpie'. Magpie, Mag Pie, Margaret Motley."

"Why do you think Vision's here? What should we do?"

"I don't know. Play it by ear."

Their armed escort halted while Lieutenant Tindall stopped to talk with a higher-ranking officer, judging by his age, bearing, and uniform. They talked in low tones that Scott strained to hear.

"Are we fighting the transfer?"

"Two Avengers on site is not a headache I want to deal with. Not with the fanatics they have."

"Good point. Besides, I don't trust Motley; she was going too easy on them."

"The sooner this becomes someone else's problem, the better."

They were taken outside the building. Vision was waiting, a quinjet parked behind him.

"Good day, sirs. I trust you received the transfer authorization?" He addressed the military personnel while seemingly ignoring Scott and Clint.

"I received some jargon about the Sokovia Accords."

"Yes. Article Twenty-Four Section Eleven Subheading C of the Sokovia Accords specifies that the optimal handling of a designated enhanced person or persons suspected of criminal activity in violation of the Accords is to be apprehended by and/or placed in the custody of individuals of designated enhanced status in compliance with the Accords pending legal proceedings. When I heard of the detainment of Mr. Barton and Mr. Lang here on the orders of the Secretary of State, I contacted the Secretary of the U.N. Sokovia Accords Oversight Committee for clarification on whether that statute applies in this situation. The U.N. hold the position that the statute does apply, and thus invoked Sokovia Accord precedence, and as Iron Man and War Machine were not immediately available, they requested that I take custody of the accused. If you wish to dispute that this is Sokovia Accord jurisdiction I am happy to wait while you contact the U.N..."

"That won't be necessary," Lieutenat Tindall said.

Papers were handed back and forth and signed, the army guards removed their handcuffs, Vision put on some new ones, and they were escorted to the quinjet. The door opened as they approached.

"Please watch your step; the ground is uneven," Vision said.

Vision piloted the quinjet over the ocean. When they were at cruising altitude, he put the jet on autopilot and turned his attention to the prisoners, removing their handcuffs.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. You were really convincing back there. You sounded so...mechanical. I was starting to wonder if you were the same guy," Scott said.

Vision dropped his eyes. "Sometimes it is simpler to let people believe I am what they assume I am."

"Was all that true about the U.N.?"

"Yes. I did contact them. I have been aware of a certain jurisdictional friction that I believed I could harness to your advantage."

Clint rubbed his wrists. "Have you been in contact with S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"No. Have you?"

"Kind of, maybe. There may be more 'jurisdictional friction' to come." He gave Vision a look of gratitude. "Thanks for getting us out of there."

"I heard what happened in Honduras. You all risked your freedom to help the victims of the earthquake. I know a military contingent was after Wanda, and your capture allowed her and the others to escape. Thank you."

"So everyone else got away?" Scott asked to doublecheck.

"As far as I have heard. Once you were incapacitated, you were transported out of the country as soon as possible to avoid the possibility that the other Rogue Avengers would rescue you."

Clint nodded. "They would have tried."

"Where would you like me to take you?" Vision asked. "Is there a rendezvous point arranged for this contingency?"

"They'll know you let us go," Clint protested.

"I will claim you overpowered me."

Scott would have laughed if the prospects weren't so dire. "There's no way anyone would believe that."

Vision lifted his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "I see very few alternatives."

Clint looked at the floor, deep in thought, then glanced up at Scott, frowning. "I can think of one."

From his tone it seemed he expected Scott to know what he meant, but he didn't. "What?"

"Surrender. Turn ourselves in. Hope for a fair deal."

"That would be an enormous risk," Vision said.

"Yeah, well...I wouldn't've joined S.H.I.E.L.D. all those years ago if I was risk-averse. Scott and I don't have powers; they'll treat us like humans. But if they got Wanda or Cap, or if they found out you were on our side...I hate to think what they would do. And the truth is, I'm tired of running. I want to see my family again, even if it is from behind a glass window."

Scott tried to think over the decision rationally, but found he couldn't. He kept reminding himself of prison, and how much he didn't want to go back there, but the constant ache inside him that was how much he missed Cassie was screaming over that voice. "If there's any chance I can see my daughter again, I'm in."

Vision looked at both of them. "Are you certain?"

"Yeah," Clint said. "The more I think about it, the more I think that's the right move."

"I will not allow them to take you back to the Raft," Vision vowed. "I don't know how I would stop them, but I would stop them. As long as you are in my custody, I will hold you under house arrest at the compound."

"Can we stop at a post office somewhere first?" Scott asked. "I need to send a letter really quick."

* * *

At a post office in a tiny town in North Carolina, Scott wrote a letter to Luis. When no one was looking, he took off his watch, removed the back, and took out the tiny Ant Man suit he'd glued to the battery, and taped it to the letter. Not even his fellow Rogue Avengers knew he'd managed to shrink down and hide the suit. He'd been saving it for an emergency, but if he was going back to prison, he didn't want to risk it getting lost, or someone working for General Ross getting their hands on it.

He sealed it in an envelope and dropped it in the mailbox.

It was a quick detour, costing a few minutes on the flight path that could easily be explained away.

When they landed at the Avengers Compound in New York, Vision put them in handcuffs again before leading them off the jet.

Tony Stark and Colonel Rhodes were waiting outside for them.

"In case this is the last time we get to talk freely," Clint said to Vision, "I want to thank you for helping us out."

"It has been my privilege. And I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to you for our altercation when I attempted to detain Wanda. It was an injustice, to you and to her, and...I feel awful about it."

"When you love someone, you want to protect them, and sometimes because of that it can be hard to give them the freedom they deserve. Believe me, I understand; I've got kids." A moment later, he added, very quietly, "Take care of her."

"I will do everything in my power."

They were almost close enough for Tony and Rhodes to overhear.

Tony and Clint locked eyes. It was tense. Scott remembered the things Clint had said to him back in the Raft.

Tony broke the silence first. "You just had to do the dumb thing and go and help people."

"It's what decent people do. I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Tony just nodded vaguely. "We'll get you out of this. Believe me, I've got some of the best lawyers in the world on speed dial."


	17. Attraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attraction: sacrifice of a piece to induce the opponent's king to abandon the defense of another square.

Nat was staring at the news on the computer screen like she was afraid it would explode if she took her eyes off it. Steve, Sam, and Wanda watched from behind her.

She started the news clip over from the beginning.

_"The fugitive former Avenger Clint Barton and an alleged accomplice surrendered peacefully to authorities yesterday. There is no word on the location of the other five suspects in the Avengers standoff that cost millions in property damage to the Leipzig Airport last year in an incident related to the UN bombing. Barton's lawyer released a pre-recorded statement this morning."_

The image switched to showing Clint. Scott was in the background behind him, along a nondescript wall few would recognize as the Avengers Compound.

_"I...very much regret any damage or distress my past actions, voluntary or otherwise, may have caused. I am prepared to answer for my past errors in judgment. I apologize to my friends and loved ones for what they have suffered because of me. I have no other comments at this time. Thank you."_

It switched back to the reporter. _"Clint Barton, also known as Hawkeye, was one of the Avengers who defended New York City from the Chitauri invasion, and dealt with the Ultron crisis in Sokovia. We'll have more on the situation as it develops."_

Nat closed the computer, stood abruptly, and started pacing.

"They're at the compound," Steve said. "What do you think that means?"

"Should we try to rescue them?" Wanda asked.

"In the video, he scratched his left eyebrow with his pinky finger," Nat said. "That's a code we arranged. It means he's not under duress. He used two words starting with the letter 'V' in his first sentence, which means he's not afraid for his life. I don't think he wants us to go after him."

"Why wouldn't he?" Sam wondered.

"His family," she answered. "He's willing to take his chances with the legal system."

"Vizh might be able to tell us more when we meet up with him next week," Wanda said.

* * *

The meeting was in a rental villa north of Cape Town, surrounded by forest.

Vision arrived exactly on schedule, as usual. He typed the code into the electronic lock on the door and walked in, showing no surprise at all four of the fugitive Avengers sitting in the living room.

Steve stood and spoke first. "What can you tell us about Clint and Scott?"

"They are safe," he answered. "For the time being, they are under house arrest at the compound."

"How did they get there from being arrested in Honduras?" Sam asked.

"The military transported them out of Honduras as quickly as possible to minimize the possibility of rescue attempts. Secretary Ross ordered them to be interred at Guantanimo Bay. The U.N. intervened to have them placed in the custody of the Avengers pending legal proceedings. Their reasoning is that it is safest to have enhanced individuals in the custody of other enhanced individuals. Officially, I am supposed to be guarding them at this very moment." He looked at Natasha. "Clint requested I deliver a message to you. He asks that you consider this the same situation as that December in Mexico City."

Nat scoffed, a mix of affectionate amusement and sadness in her eyes.

"What does that mean?" Wanda asked her.

"We were never in Mexico City in December. It's another code. 'Mexico City' means he trusts the messenger. 'December' means...he doesn't expect to see me again."

"Their legal team are negotiating a plea deal," Vision said. "Tony is optimistic. There is a petition calling for their pardon which has already amassed over a million signatures."

"That doesn't mean much," Sam said. "Ross is going to do all he can to make sure they're locked up."

"In the case that they are unable to negotiate an acceptible plea bargain, there may be an unfortunate security lapse at the compound before they can be transfered," Vision suggested.

"Something like the person who's supposed to be standing guard taking a quick trip to the other side of the world?" Steve joked.

"Hopefully nothing quite so incriminating," Vision jokingly replied.

* * *

Wanda had claimed the bedroom in an outbuilding for her own. After sharing dinner with the others, she'd invited Vision there to play a game of chess. He'd won quickly, but she didn't mind. She hadn't exactly been focusing on the game.

While Vision reset the board, Wanda opened a window, letting in the night breeze and the sound of insects. She gazed out at the dark blue twilight.

Vision came up behind her. He rested his hands on her shoulders, massaging them very gently.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her.

"I was just thinking about how happy I am, but then I felt sad. I started thinking about Pietro." She covered one of Vision's hands with her own. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't...I should try to be happy while I'm with you."

"No. You should feel whatever authentic emotion comes to you. You once told me you love me for all that I am. I feel the same. You lost your brother. I wish that you had not suffered that loss, but you did. I don't expect that grief will ever disappear, and I accept it as part of you. Never feel that you need to be happy because it is what I want for you."

She smiled. "You always know the right thing to say."

"I've often found the opposite to be the case."

Wanda laughed softly. She took Vision hands and pulled his arms around her waist. They stood like that in silence for a few minutes, watching the stars come out.

Vision kissed the top of her head. He'd meant it to be innocent, but it tickled her hair follicles, causing a sensation that shot down through her to her core.

She'd had boyfriends before, kind of. Teenage flings mostly. Never anything like this. She'd only thought she knew what falling in love felt like.

They were together. They would be together all night. The thought made her both excited and nervous.

She turned in his arms. Her hands ran up his arms, up his neck, to his face. His skin was hard and smooth; touching him felt like carressing a living gem, and she couldn't get enough of it.

His long arms angled aroung her arms. He brushed his fingertips along her cheeks, her cheekbones, her jaw, her eyebrows, her ears. His eyes were fixed on her face, exploring every centimeter of it along with his fingers. His hands were stronger, smoother, and gentler than a regular human could ever be.

One hand cupped her cheek. The other ran through her hair. He smoothed her hair, brought it over one shoulder, fascinated by its texture, its length. He kissed it.

Wanda felt a sudden flash on fear intrude on the intimacy, curiosity, and arousal she'd been reading from him.

"You're afraid?" she asked, confused.

"This...feels dangerous. How much I feel for you."

"We can stop." It pained her to say it, but she didn't want him to be afraid. "We could go back to the way we were before."

He shook his head. "I can't. I couldn't unfeel what I feel."

"Neither can I," Wanda agreed.

They both realized at the same moment the position their reciprocal exploration had put them in: Wanda was perched on the windowsill, her legs spread open, her knees almost touching Vision's thighs, her hands draped around the back of his neck. It was a moment where they could either back away or move in. Wanda didn't want to back off—she was throbbing for him—but she also didn't want to push him if he was having second thoughts.

She leaned forward and kissed him softly on the cheek.

He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply.

She followed a sudden impulse for symmetry and kissed his other cheek, letting her lips brush his skin as she slowly drew back.

He kissed her cheek, then the corner of her lips.

She couldn't resist for another second. She pulled him to her, locked her lips over his, and wrapped her legs around him.

He lifted her, holding her tightly against him as he kissed her hungrily.

Wanda felt woozy, almost drunk on him. It took her a minute to realize they were floating.

She broke the kiss and rested her forehead on his. "Take me to bed," she whispered.

Vision obligingly floated down to the bed. He set her on it, then stepped back and phased out of his clothes.

Wanda's eyes widened, taking in his full glory.

Flashing a smile that was both shy and teasing, she pulled off her shirt, then slowly removed her bra.

Vision stared at her, mouth agape.

She peeled off her shorts and her underwear.

After several seconds, Vision recovered himself. He moved closer to her, and reached toward her. He seemed unable to decide where to touch her first. He at last placed his hand on her side, where her ribs met her waist. Then he resumed kissing her.

Their limbs entangled again, arms pulling each other closer, hands caressing backs, legs snaking over and between each other. Vision tenderly lay Wanda down on the bed, changing his density to rest lightly on top of her. His hand traced around the side of her breast. She moaned and arched her body as his thumb circled her nipple.

Vision's hand wandered down her side, over her hip, to her thigh. His hand ran down the outside and up the inside of her thigh, then higher, between her legs.

Wanda came almost immediately. She tossed her head back into the pillow and shuddered.

Vision's motions slowed and softened, but didn't stop.

"What would you like me to do?" he inquired.

"I want to feel you inside me."

He gladly obliged, slowly sliding his hard, smooth shaft into her.

"Mmm." Wanda smiled. "You're amazing."

He began to move in and out, slowly. "Is this enjoyable?" he asked.

She had to laugh at the contrast between the careful conscienciousness of his words and the shining bliss she read from his mind. He was trying to focus, to prioritize her pleasure while his own nearly overwhelmed him.

"Faster," she asked.

He quickened his thrusts. His eyes were fixed on her face. She gazed back at him for a moment before her eyes involuntarily closed. Small, squeaking moans escaped her throat, followed by a Sokovian expletive. She couldn't remember words. Conscious thought abandoned her. It was as if she was in a trance, lost to the point of mindless in the moment.

He curled forward to kiss her. Her hand moved from wherever it had been to the back of his head, holding him there. Her lips and tongue moved in a pattern—ah-oh, in-out—in time with his thrusts. She felt occasional burst of ecstasy from him as he orgasmed, she couldn't keep track of how many times.

Time lost its meaning.

It was exhaustion that finally parted her lips from his. She lay back, her hands falling to the pillow above her head.

Vision slowed to a stop, then slid out of her and rolled over to lie next to her.

She shifted her arm to the inside of his and took his hand, their fingers interlocking. Hers pale, his dark. They made a beautiful pattern.

She couldn't speak, because the only words she could think of were "I love you" and she was still determined she would not say that again until he did. Besides which, she didn't want him to think she just loved him for the sex.

"You are magnificent," he said.

She laughed at the incongruity of _him_ calling _her_ magnificent, when that word applied to him more than anything else in the universe she could think of. She leaned over to press a kiss to his fingers, then just lay back, enjoying the rare sensation of complete contentment.

It didn't last long. In minutes, sadness crept in at the thought that they would be separated again tomorrow. And fear. Vision had been right, what he'd said earlier: this felt dangerous. The intensity of her feelings for him, their newness, the uncertainty and precariousness of their situation...it could all go so wrong in so many ways.

And she was helpless to stop it.


	18. Automaton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Automaton: early chess-playing machines that turned out to be hoaxes, with the moves controlled by a hidden human player.

"That leaves almost three hundred thousand unaccounted for."

Tony stared at Pepper, processing her revelation. Over a quarter million dollars. It was spare change compared to the kinds of numbers he and Pepper were used to dealing with in managing Stark Industries, but it seemed incongruously huge for what Vision might possibly use.

"When you told me he divested his Stark stock, I thought he was just still mad at me, but this is something else. Something else is going on," he said.

"The investments make sense, the philanthropic contributions make sense. And it's his money to spend how he wants," Pepper pointed out, sounding just as dissatisfied with that explanation as Tony felt. "It's just..."

"What could he spend it on?" Tony concluded.

"Exactly. That much money would be hard to spend without leaving a trail. Which...I hate to even suggest it, but makes it look like he's purposely hiding something."

Tony was glad he'd decided to have this conversation in his soundproof, windowless, electronics-free inner office, because he didn't want even the slightest risk that someone else would find out about this. When he'd insisted on paying Vision in Stark Industries stocks for JARVIS's years of service, he'd never imagined the android would sell them. And he couldn't imagine now what Vision had done or planned to do with that money.

"Should I talk to him?" Pepper suggested.

Tony considered it. He didn't think Vision would outright lie, but he remembered back to the last meeting with Ross, when Ross was trying to find an excuse to reject the plea deal Clint and Scott's lawyers had worked out. Vision had been so seemingly emotionless in that meeting, outwardly agreeing with Ross while offering only abstruse legal jargon and additional difficulties. He'd acted...mechanical. Even if he hadn't lied, he'd deceived. "No. Not yet. I want to do some digging on my own first."

She nodded. "Would you let me know when you find out what he's up to? I'm...I know this is ridiculous, but I'm worried about him.

* * *

When Tony went to the compound, Vision was missing again. Tony paced, agitated, trying to think of a way to figure out where he'd gone.

Vision was partially based on Ultron, which was partially based on the Iron Legion robots Tony had designed. They all had transponders connecting them to the Stark Industries geostationary satellite network, providing GPS information and internet connection.

Tony got on his company network, accessed the satellite network, and input the coordinates of the Avengers Compound, looking at uplinks over time. It took him under a minute to identify the alphanumeric designation the satellite network had assigned to Vision's transponder. He wrote a program to retrieve GPS coordinates from satellite pings.

What unfolded on his screen shocked him.

For a minute, he wondered if he'd made some mistake, or if there was an error in the program. But no: there was the date and coordinates of Vision's trip to Cuba to take custody of Clint and Scott. He scrolled back over a year and found the trip to Germany. He saw the traveling Vision had done for official missions, including the mission to stop the chemical leak in Moldova a few months ago that had been too corrosive to organic matter for anyone else to attempt. This could only be Vision. But some of the data made so little sense it took a minute for Tony's brain to parse it. South Africa, The Bahamas, Lithuania, China, Paris? _Paris?_ How the hell could Vision go to _Paris_ without being seen? But if he had been seen, it would have made the news; he would have heard about it.

He checked the most current data: Vision's current coordinates. He was over the Pacific Ocean.

He brought up surveillance satellite images. There was an airplane at those coordinates. He accessed flightpath information and deduced the plane was heading for Hawai'i, and would arrive at the Honolulu Airport in about an hour and a half.

Tony dropped his head back, rubbed his eyes, and groaned. The only thing he could think of for a next step wasn't technically illegal (thanks to a clause buried deep in Stark Tech end-user licensing agreements) but was unquestionably unethical. The University of Hawai'i was one of several institutions that had purchased Stark-brand solar powered micro-drones for monitoring endangered species, tech that could be commandeered for emergency use at Stark Industries' discretion. This might not technically count as an emergency, but on the other hand, it might. Ross would definitely think not knowing the whereabouts of such powerful technology as Vision qualified.

Tony had to find out what was going on before Ross did.

Making up his mind, he sat up straight, flexed his fingers, and got back on his computer. He pulled out two virtual keyboards, accessed the backdoor software on the micro-drone nearest Vision's presumed destination airport, and wrote a program to direct it to track the GPS coordinates of Vision's transponder. He sent it a series of test coordinates. It had a lag of at least sixteen seconds, which wasn't great, but was the best he could do with the tools available.

He accessed visual feed from the micro-drone when the plane landed. The micro-drone was about the size of a bumblebee, designed to be ignored by wild animals. It flew unnoticed above the baggage handlers, drivers, and fuelers on the tarmac. It veered off to fly above the airport.

Tony hadn't seen Vision leave the plane. He'd figured Vision had stowed away in the baggage hold and phased out of the plane and underground at his first opportunity. He must have gone very fast if even Tony, knowing what to look for, had missed it.

The micro-drone was now hovering over the crowd of tourists and taxi drivers at the airport's exit. He frowned. No way would Vision risk such a populated area. Unless...

He scanned the crowd for anyone with a head and face covering, or maybe a wig and mask...

Was that...?

No, that couldn't possibly be Wanda standing on the sidewalk. It was a random woman whose face kind of looked like Wanda's. But this woman had black hair and was wearing sunglasses, plus her makeup and clothes weren't Wanda's style at all.

And yet...

Tony updated the micro-drone's program to move closer to the woman who resembled Wanda. Closer, he became increasingly suspicious it was indeed her.

Until a dazzling smile lit up her face. Wanda never smiled like that.

Tony smirked at how absurd it had been to not have immediately rejected the miniscule odds that he'd go looking for Vision and just happen to spot Wanda instead.

Wanda's doppelganger sprinted up to a tall blond man exiting the airport and greeted him with a warm embrace followed by a long kiss.

"Get a room," Tony jokingly mumbled.

He switched the micro-drone's priority back to tracking Vision's coordinates.

...Which were exactly where the couple was standing.

It clicked.

"Oh my God."

He slammed his laptop shut, stood, and started pacing.

"Shitshitshitshitshit."

This could not be happening. If Vision could look completely human, why would he keep that from him? Was that where the money went? To help the fugitives? He was an accessory. Was Wanda using him, seducing him into helping her and the others? Was that why Vision had insisted on holding Clint and Scott at the compound instead of letting Ross or the U.N. take custody of them? Did Vision really not trust him so much that he'd keep something so huge from him?

Tony opened his laptop. Vision and Wanda were walking through the parking garage, holding hands.

If Ross knew about this...

Tony sent instructions to the micro-drone to return to the mountain where it had come from. Once it got there, he wiped its memory, then wiped the memory of the memory wipe. He deleted the tracking programs he'd written, then went through the satellite network's data, selectively deleting Vision's location history. He made sure not even he would be able to recover that data.

When he was satisfied that there was nothing else he could erase, he shut down the computer and buried his face in his hands.

Vision was committing felonies. He was in violation of the Sokovia Accords. He was fraternizing with the enemy. But Tony couldn't shake the conviction that he was the one who'd screwed up.


	19. Human Move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Human move: a move only a human would make, in contrast to a move a computer would make.

Pepper paused in the anteroom to Tony's inner office and waited while a scanner checked her for listening devices or tracking devices. When it cleared, the door in front of her unlocked and popped open.

Tony glanced up from his desk. He looked upset, almost forlorn.

"What's wrong?"

"I know where Vision's been sneaking off to. I have an idea where the missing money's going."

"I take it from your tone that it's bad."

"Worse than I thought. He's...he could be in trouble."

"Don't leave me in suspense. What's going on?"

Tony glanced around as if they weren't in a locked, windowless, soundproof room with nowhere for anyone to hide, and when he spoke he dropped his voice to nearly a whisper. "He's been in touch with Cap's team."

Pepper was both startled and relieved. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it had been something worse. On the other hand, it made so little sense that Vision would do anything illegal. And then she connected the dots.

"You think he's been financially supporting them."

"Yeah. I don't have proof, but..."

"But there's enough evidence that if anyone found out...?"

"There's enough to put Vision on the U.N.'s naughty list."

"And Ross..."

"I don't even want to think about it," Tony said.

Pepper got his concern. If Vision was helping the fugitives, no one knew how to find and capture Steve and his team, but Vision was right here. They would arrest him, question him, and who knew what else. Vision might not be legally recognized as human; they could try to find a way to shut him down.

She had an instinct to protect him. She still thought of Vision as JARVIS—Tony's charming, competent, brilliant A.I. assistant—made flesh.

"Do you think Steve sent him a secret cellphone too?" she asked.

"I don't know. I wouldn't have believed Vision could hide something like that, and I don't think Steve would have believed that either." He sighed. "He can look human, Pep."

"What?!"

"I don't know how he managed it, but when I tracked his location, he looked human. A normal human."

"That's...incredible. It's amazing."

"There's more."

"What is it?"

"He met up with Wanda. She was waiting for him at the airport. He kissed her."

Pepper was starting to wonder if this was some kind of weird dream. "Kissed her?"

"And it wasn't a little peck on the cheek. From the look of it, they're an item."

"I see." His gloomy demeanor was starting to make more sense. "So your not just upset he didn't tell you or worried about if he gets caught. Your worried we're going to lose him."

"If I hadn't blamed him for what happened to Rhodey...That pushed him away. If it wasn't for that, he would have told me."

Pepper couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him look so lost. There had been the dismal days after he went to Siberia and learned his parents had been murdered by Steve's best friend, when he'd been dealing with that along with worrying about Rhodey's injury, tormented with ideas for how he could have handled everything better. This was an echo of that, she knew. Seeing him like this, she decided to break her self-imposed rule against physical contact in the workplace. She walked over to him and took his hand. She looked at him with sympathy and said, "You fucked up."

He chuckled at her brutal honesty. His thumb caressed her knuckles and he gazed at her imploringly. "Yeah. What should I do?"

"Talk to him. If he chooses them—chooses her—over us, there's nothing you can do to stop him, other than let him know it's alright, that you understand. You do understand, right?"

He looked at her. "Yeah. But since I'm sure you could put it into words better than I could, why don't you explain it?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know why I decided to give you another chance, even though you keep going back on your word to stop being Iron Man?"

"Because you find my bad-boy nonchalance irresistible?"

"It's because I knew you before you were a hero, and I know how much you've changed, and why being Iron Man is important to you. As much as I hate seeing you put yourself in danger, I respect why you choose to. Vision was never given that choice; from the moment he was created, he had superpowers and the immediate need to use those powers to save the world. He wasn't given a chance to grow, to find himself. Maybe he wants to see what it's like to not be a superhero for a while."

The corner of Tony's mouth tugged into the hint of a smile. "When I said he was acting like a sullen teenager, he said that's what he is."

"Our little JARVIS is growing up," Pepper said. "And you can either let him go, or push him away."

"It's not like he's dropping out of school to join a band or taking a year off to go backpacking through Europe; he's putting himself in danger, committing felonies. He's not doing that out of teenage rebellion."

"Then he really thinks Steve's side is right. Or he's doing it out of love. Does his reasons for doing what he's doing change anything?"

"I don't know," Tony admitted. "I just don't want anything to happen to him."

She leaned over his desk and kissed him before giving him a stern look. "Talk to him. Tell him that."

* * *

When Vision returned to the compound, he found a note under his door.

_When you get back, I'd like to run something by you. I'm either in the lounge or the jogging track._

_Tony_

He frowned at the note. What would Tony want to talk to him about? However, he didn't see any point in postponing the conversation.

He found him on the jogging track, a path through the woods on the grounds of the compound that the Avengers formerly used for training. Tony had been exercising, but was currently leaning against a tree taking a rest.

"You wanted to talk to me?" Vision inquired.

"Yeah. In private."

"What is this about?"

Tony didn't answer for a moment, looking at him thoughtfully. "Can you keep a secret?"

It was not at all a question Vision expected to be asked. "I believe I can," he answered noncommittally.

"Good, because if Ross were to find out what I'm about to tell you, it could put Steve, Natasha, Sam, and Wanda in danger. After the jailbreak at the Raft, Steve sent me a burner phone programmed with a number I can reach him on."

Vision was surprised. Steve hadn't mentioned such a phone. He wondered if Tony was lying.

"That was prudent of him. If there is an emergency that requires the skills of our former colleagues, it is good you have a way to contact them."

"But I could also use it to tell them there's an emergency to set a trap for them with the authorities. Cap knows I would never do that. He trusts me. Why don't you?"

"What leads you to believe I don't trust you?"

"I tracked your location by your transponder's satellite uplink. I know you went to Honolulu. I know about your other trips too." He suddenly looked hurt. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me you can disguise yourself as a human?"

Vision froze.

Tony continued. "I erased every trace of where you went from the network. I'll protect you. But I'm...I have to say, I'm sorry you didn't feel like you could talk to me about this."

Vision was stunned. For a few seconds, he couldn't formulate a response. He hadn't known the satellite network software could keep a record of his location. If he had...perhaps he never would have risked helping the fugitives in the first place.

But now Tony knew. There was no point denying it.

"It wasn't that I believed you would have me apprehended, but I knew you would disapprove," Vision said.

"Disapprove of you breaking the law to help Steve's team?" Tony began, then seemed to stop to consider. "It's not that I think it's wrong. But...I worry about you. I don't want to lose you too."

"If I had told you what I intended to do, you would have tried to stop me."

He looked down. "I would have tried to talk you out of it, but I wouldn't have stopped you. Not if you told me why it was so important to you. I had a camera on you when you left the airport." He added more quietly, "I saw you with her."

A chill ran down Vision's spine. He'd put Wanda in danger, exposed her. "I didn't know how to tell you," he said.

"Are you in love with her?"

The question Natasha had asked him months ago, the question he'd been asking himself ever since.

"Yes."

It was the only answer he could give. It felt as though it would be impossible to say anything else.

Tony nodded. "I see."

They looked at each other for a minute. Vision knew, with a resolve that he could feel to his core, that he could not stop seeing Wanda, but he didn't know what he would do if Tony tried to stop him.

"Okay then," Tony finally said. "Let's make sure you don't get caught."


	20. Coffeehouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coffeehouse: style of play characterized by quick, risky moves.

Wanda sat at a secluded booth in a café in Auckland, New Zealand. She'd already eaten the ginger slice she'd bought. She sipped at her flat white while staring out the rain-streaked window at an evergreen tree with strangely symmetrical branches that gave it a star-shaped cross-section. The needles were upturned and level, and bright green at the tips. After a few minutes of staring at them she began to imagine they were bright green fingertips holding up the gray sky.

Vision was late. She knew she shouldn't be feeling slightly ill with worry, but he was never late.

Over half an hour after the expected time, he slipped into the seat across the table, startling her.

"I'm sorry," he said. "The flight was delayed. I tried to get here as quickly as I could. I took a cab from the airport..."

"Vizh, it's alright. It happens." She grabbed his hand, and he instantly grew subdued.

"Thank you for understanding."

He was still agitated, she felt. "What's wrong?"

He dropped his eyes to the table. Her worry returned. Why wouldn't he just tell her? This wasn't like him.

"Tony knows."

Wanda jolted. " _What?_ "

"He investigated my activities and discovered our meetings. He claims he has destroyed the evidence of my movements, and I trust him. However, if you feel the risk is too great for us to continue like this...I would understand."

She could feel apprehension and contrition from him. He meant it: he would give up their relationship to protect her if she asked him.

The risk was real; she knew that. She didn't want to go back to the Raft. She couldn't bear the thought of it. But she also couldn't bear the thought of not seeing Vision again.

"I want to keep seeing you. It's worth the risk."

Vision slumped with relief. "Are you sure?"

She placed her other hand on his cheek and held his gaze. "This is worth it."

He covered her hand with his, clinging to her in an almost desperate way he never had before.

"There's something else," she said. "You feel...different. I can't really describe it. It's like you're...nervous?"

"I've learned the Stark Industries satellite uplink connected to my mind had been logging my GPS data. I have temporarily deactivated my transponder. I feel as if I've lost a sense. I don't know my coordinates, I can't query the internet about anything I see or hear or wonder. I look at that tree, for example, and I have no idea what species it is. I want information and it is simply not there, which I find both frustrating and terrifying. I feel...disoriented. Untethered."

"You sound like an American who lost their cell phone," Wanda said, and immediately regretted joking about something that was clearly causing Vision so much distress. "I'm sorry. That's an incredible sacrifice."

He turned his head just enough to kiss the palm of her hand. "This is worth it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a Norfolk Island pine. The first time I saw them was in Auckland, and I thought they were the most beautiful, mysterious trees I'd ever seen.


	21. Flight Square

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flight square: a space where a piece can move to escape a threat.

This wasn't the first times Rhodes and Vision had been on a mission together since the accident at Leipzig Airport. It wasn't even the first time it had been just the two of them without Tony. But this time seemed different. Vision seemed different. More quiet and distracted than usual.

Their interactions were always polite. Rhodes had never blamed Vision for the accident, unlike Tony. Tony had never been a soldier, and had very little understanding for friendly fire. But even before that incident, the two of them had never been all that close.

Their current mission had taken them to a rugged, densely forested spot deep in the Darién Gap to intercept a dangerous gang of smugglers called the Charon Network.

The Charon Network smuggled drugs, guns, and looted artifacts, and had recently branched out to selling stolen cutting-edge technology on the black market.

Rhodes was grateful the War Machine suit had a cooling system, because he was sweating from just thinking about the humidity as they flew over jagged hills carpeted in green and festooned with mist.

"The most desirable outcome is to retrieve the Ceciliano intact, correct?" Vision asked.

The Ceciliano was the Charon Network's codename for a tunnel-digging machine that would allow them to bypass the riskier ocean and air routes to get their contraband across international borders undetected. Law enforcement agencies were very interested in figuring out how it worked and who had invented it.

"Yes."

"And the second-most desirable outcome is to destroy it," Vision continued.

"That's right."

"What level of risk are we willing to undertake to secure the most desirable outcome?"

Rhodes frowned. He wasn't sure how to quantify those scenarios. "It will probably be less risky to steal it than to destroy it. If you were caught in an explosion in a tunnel...I don't know what that would do to you, and I don't think we should try and find out."

"What I mean to ask is if stealing the technology intact would be valuable enough to justify risking avoidable harm to the combatants."

"Those are hardened criminals we're dealing with. These smugglers have murdered dozens of Coast Guard officers, C.I.A. agents, and police officers in five countries. They supply cocaine that kills and ruins the lives of innocent people, they sell guns to drug lords, they've destroyed archeological sites, and they will kill us if we give them the chance."

"Do you mean to say they are expendable?"

"I mean keeping them from getting hurt isn't high on our priorities list. We have to stop them from finishing this tunnel. A lot of lives depend on that. And if we have to kill them to stop them, no one would blame us for it."

"Their families and friends very well might. There may be hundreds of people who rely on this operation for income, for sustainance. If we take out one criminal organization without helping those who rely on them, others will be driven to turn to crime. No matter how many criminals we arrest or kill, there will be others desperate enough to take their place."

Rhodes stared at him, wondering if this was the reason he'd been so quiet and elusive lately. "Not everyone is a good person. Some people are greedy, selfish, or just cruel."

"I believe everyone is born good," Vision replied, "and so those who do not end up that way, something happened to change them."

"Maybe," Rhodes conceded, not wanting to argue philosophy right before a battle, "but our job is to stop bad people, not keep people from turning bad. That's not our responsibility."

"It seems that is a responsibility no one is willing to accept," Vision said.

That was a hard point to disagree with. "You going to be okay with executing this mission?" Rhodes asked, realizing his poor choice of words even as he said it.

"If I may," Vision said hesitantly, "I believe a slight alteration to the plan may minimize casualties."

The plan was Rhodes would draw the fire of the 30 or so smugglers their intelligence indicated were working on the tunnel while Vision stole or destroyed the tunneling machine. It was a simple plan. It surprised him that Vision would suggest a change; he rarely involved himself in mission planning.

"What kind of alteration?"

"If I draw them into the terminal tunnel, you would be able to destroy the bridge, which would trap all of them. I could then disarm them all, and when reinforcements arrive, they will be able to apprehend the smugglers without a struggle. There is a risk of some of our adversaries being injured or killed by their own bullets, but it would be safer for them in the tunnel than on the bridge."

What he meant was they would be safer with Vision than him, Rhodes thought.

"That ups the risk they destroy the Ceciliano themselves if they don't want us to get our hands on it," he said.

"True. But that is a risk I am willing to accept. Are you?"

This level of questioning authority was a sharp departure from Vision's usual mindset. Rhodes didn't know what to make of it. The plan he was proposing also entailed much more risk to himself.

"If you want to see how indestructible you really are, then sure, let's go with your plan."

"Thank you."

The Charon Network's tunnel-making machine was capable of drilling continuously underground for miles, but in such a rugged landscape as this, the ground rarely went that far. To keep above the water table, the Ceciliano had to tunnel through mountains, which required occasional bridge connections between the mountains. These bridges were the weak points. Satellite images had spotted some of them, which had been used to estimate the speed and trajectory of the tunneling operation.

Rhodes and Vision made their way to the newest bridge, a narrow span between two steep, densely forested slopes. Rhodes set his visor to binocular mode and focused in on the tunnel entrance on the far slope. It was hard to see in the deepening dusk. He switched to infrared and could make out human activity in the tunnel.

"Okay. We're good to go. As soon as you engage the workers in the tunnel, I'll blow up the bridge."

Vision nodded sharply, and flew off. He was soon out of sight as he phased through the rainforest trees and into the mountain.

Rhodes watched and waited. He knew Vision was strong, that his vibranium-infused skin could withstand any bullet when he was solid, and a bullet would pass harmlessly through him when he phased, but he was about to face a couple dozen guns aimed at him. What would happen if he were shot while he was solidifying? They'd never dared test that in training. What would happen if he were caught in an explosion? The more time passed, the more he questioned the wisdom of this altered plan.

He heard gunshots from the tunnel, and saw flashes of light as Vision shot back. He flew into action, flying across the canyon and taking aim at the bridge.

It was sturdier than it looked. The War Machine's first anti-tank rounds tore holes in the side, but weren't enough to bring the bridge down.

By the flash of his shots, he could see the bridge was made entirely of intricately interwoven beams of wood, rather than the steal he'd expected. That partly explained how the Charon Network was building them so fast: the raw material was all around them.

Rhodes flew closer to the bridge and fired at the underside, hoping to take out enough supporting beams to collapse it under its own weight. Then he felt something impact his suit.

 _"Incoming fire,"_ FRIDAY reported.

There were flashes of automatic weapons fire from both sides of the gorge. He returned fire. He switched to infrared again, but couldn't make out the human figures from the background glow of vegetation. He landed on top of the bridge to get a better beat on them.

That's when the explosions hit. There had been several charges set inside the bridge, set to detonate simultaneously. The shockwaves hit the War Machine suit from the back and then the front, and a second later the wood beneath his feet disintegrated and he was pelted with chunks of debris from all directions.

_"Fuel line leak detected. Thrusters at sixty-five percent."_

Rhodes hit the thrusters for all they were worth, trying to slow his fall while he had the chance. Flames sputtered around his suit.

_"Thrusters at fifty-one percent. Forty-eight percent."_

"Shit."

For a moment he flashed back to the fight at Leipzig, falling helplessly. But then he grew calm as years of military drills and discipline took over.

Test pilots expected to die in crashes, after all.

He aimed toward the nearest hillside and turned his thrusters on full blast. He would get enough inertia out of them to have a nonfatal crash landing, or he wouldn't.

He didn't.

He could picture the arc of his trajectory curve downward as his thrusters gave out, and for a second was in freefall in darkness.

And then something slowed his fall, then reversed it, carrying him to the far side of the gorge, then settling him into the roots of a tree growing at an angle from the mountainside.

Once Vision made sure Rhodes was secure, he looked back to see if the snipers knew their position. Even if they had seen where they'd landed through the smoke lingering from the explosions, they were well out of range.

"Are you injured?" Vision asked, urgency tinging his voice.

"I don't know," he answered. "If I am, it's below where I can feel." He pressed a button to automatically release the suit, and was relieved when it worked.

"You don't appear to be bleeding," Vision noted.

"No. I think I'm okay."

"Reinforcements will be here in an hour and twenty minutes," he stated. "There will be medics with them."

Rhodes chuckled lightly at Vision's concern. "I'm fine. FRIDAY, how are my vitals?"

_"Breathing and heart rate elevated. Blood pressure normal."_

"See?"

"I will still feel better after you are x-rayed," Vision said. "I am sorry. I should not have changed the plan..."

"Is the machine intact?"

"Yes."

"Were you able to disarm the smugglers?"

"Yes."

"How many of them died before you could disarm them?"

"I don't know. Several were struck by ricochets. I didn't notice any fatalities."

"My bet is at least one of the people now trapped in that tunnel is an engineer who knows how they built that bridge, and maybe how that tunneler works. If our side can convince them to work for us, that would be valuable knowlege to have. Their lives are worth saving if we can. You were right about that."

"But not worth your life," Vision said.

The guilt was practically dripping off him. Rhodes didn't know how to assuage it.

"Then it's a good thing it didn't cost my life. I'm fine." Because Vision had probably saved his life, but it seemed almost uncouth to point out something so obvious.

They both fell silent. The sounds of tree frogs and distant howler monkeys grew more salient as the night deepened.

"I've been thinking about what you said, about people not always having a choice," Rhodes said. "It got me wondering: are you thinking of quitting?"

Vision seemed startled by the question. "The possibility has crossed my mind. I sometimes feel I am simply not...temperamentally suited for these sorts of missions."

Rhodes had worked so hard to convince everyone he was up for field missions again after the accident that it was hard to understand someone would choose to walk away from this work, even though he intellectually knew it wasn't for everyone. He loved the thrill of it, the challenge of it, the feeling of making a concrete difference in the world. Even now, he wouldn't trade it for anything, and he found it hard to imagine how Vision, with his powers and near invulnerability, could want to leave.

"What else would you do, if you don't mind my asking? You can't exactly go incognito."

Vision looked at him pensively for a moment, then looked down. His face rippled and flowed. It changed right in front of him. He looked back up, and it wasn't Vision's face, but an ordinary looking human with blond hair and blue eyes.

"Actually I can."

It was weird to hear Vision's voice from a stranger's face.

Vision reversed the transformation in a moment, returning to the appearance Rhodes was used to.

"When did you learn to do that?" he asked after giving himself a second to convince himself he really saw what he just saw.

"When Wanda, Sam, and Clint were imprisoned, I was contemplating helping them escape. I experimented with my phasing ability in an attempt to effect a disguise."

"You were planning a jailbreak?" Rhodes asked, legitimately shocked.

"Yes."

"Then the things you said about how dangerous you thought Cap's side would be if we tried to arrest them...that was posturing for Ross?"

"For all of you," Vision admitted. "Now that Tony knows, I feel it is only fair that you know as well: I have been in contact with them since their liberation."

It was just one shocking revelation after another. Rhodes was a little peeved that Vision had told Tony first. He also realized that Vision told him Tony knew because he knew Rhodes would never risk revealing this information if it meant putting Tony in danger. "So those times when we went to the compound and you weren't there..."

"I was with them. Specifically...I was with Wanda. I've been seeing her. We're seeing each other."

Rhodes was ashamed of how long it took him to come to grips with that sentence. He thought he was pretty good at thinking of Vision as a person, but the thought of him being with someone instantly raised several questions, some of which were absolutely none of his business and he really didn't want to know the answer to.

"You mean you're dating Wanda?" he asked, just to make sure he hadn't misunderstood.

"Yes. We're dating." The way he said it made it sound like he'd never said it before, and had just realized that was the right word.

"So that's why you've been thinking of quitting," Rhodes realized. "A long-distance relationship with a fugitive you're supposed to be tracking down is one epic 'it's complicated'."

"I have not spoken to her about it yet, but I have been making preparations, just in case. I'm telling you now because, if I don't come back, I wanted you to know the reason."

Was Vision worried that if he left without explanation, Rhodes would think it was because of _him_? Would he have?

"Thanks for telling me," he said.

Vision nodded solemnly.

Rhodes leaned back, wondering if the Avengers would really be over if Vision left. There was the spider kid, and who knew who else they'd be able to recruit if something came up that required a team of Avengers again?

"I have no idea what we'll tell Ross if you just disappear," he mused.

"You could tell him you put me in storage for emergencies," Vision said.

Rhodes couldn't quite tell if he was joking or not.

"He'd probably believe it," Rhodes said. "Or we could say you decided to explore the galaxy and the last time we saw you, you were flying straight up into the sky."

"That is more plausible," Vision said with an amused smile.

In a few minutes, they heard the helicopters signalling the arrival of the U.N. force, coming to arrest the smugglers, take custody of their tunneling technology, and provide medical attention to the wounded.

"In case I don't get a chance to say this again, it's been an honor serving with you," Rhodes said.

"Likewise, Colonel," Vision replied.


	22. Zeitnot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zeitnot: having very little time left in a game of speed chess, German for "time crisis."

The cloudy gloom and rain just made the colorful storefronts of Victoria Street stand out more brightly. Or maybe it was simply having Wanda so close to him under the umbrella, holding his arm as they walked along the slick cobblestone, that put him in such a bright mood.

"I love this place," Wanda said, leaning her head on his shoulder for a moment. She'd dyed her hair again. It was red this time, which Vision thought suited her. "It makes me think of some of the older parts of Novi Grad. It's not so much that it looks like Novi Grad, but it makes me think of how Novi Grad should have looked, without the bombings and the corruption."

"Edinburgh undeniably has character," Vision agreed. He reconsidered his words, feeling they were inadequate. "It has charm, grace, mystery, and the air of having a past."

"That's a very poetic way to put it," Wanda said approvingly.

"Come to think of it, it reminds me of you," he said.

She responded with a breathy laugh and lopsided smile. "Stop. You're the one with the charm and grace."

They walked along the street for a while without conversation, listening to the rain on their umbrella and the cobblestones.

Vision was a little preoccupied.

Their time apart, with the constant danger that something drastic would happen and they would never see each other again, was agonizing.

It wasn't that there had been no second thoughts since Vision's conversation with Colonel Rhodes. He was an Avenger, and he was dedicated to using his power to help those who needed it. But as he'd said to Tony nearly two years ago now, the world didn't seem to want heroes. Why shouldn't he then run away with Wanda? They could find a quiet place to settle down. She could stop running. They could use false identities, blend in, live a quiet life together.

These thoughts had begun as speculations and idle daydreams, but the more he imagined that life, the more he wanted it.

Perhaps they could stay here, in Edinburgh, a city they both loved.

He hadn't yet worked up the courage to suggest it to her. He didn't want to sound like he wasn't serious, but he also didn't want to sound demanding. He'd imagined out many different ways to word this...what should he call it? Desire? Suggestion? Invitation?

Proposal?

These thoughts were interrupted abruptly when something happened to the Mind Stone. It felt like a trembling and sudden sharp heat inside it. The physical pain came with a wave of terror, a sense of desecration and wrongness.

A gasp escaped from his lips as his hand slapped his forehead.

"Vizh, what's wrong?" Wanda asked, forgetting to use the alias he assumed when they were in public together.

He didn't answer, not knowing how to explain.

"Hey, is he alright?" a passerby asked.

"Yes," Wanda said quickly, needing to make sure no one got close enough to touch him and realize he wasn't a normal human. "He's okay. He just..."

The sensation passed as inexplicably as it had come. Vision opened his eyes, seeing Wanda's face, covered in rain and full of fear.

"I'm alright," he assured her, loud enough for bystanders to hear. "I just got a sudden headache. It has passed."

"You should get that looked at by a docter. Could be a stroke or something," the passerby said.

"I think that's a good idea," said Wanda. She picked up the umbrella from where Vision had dropped it and helped him up. "Can you walk? Should we get a cab?"

"I can walk. Whatever it was has passed."

She kept glancing at him as they walked to their hotel. Once in the privacy of their room, she ushered him to a chair and stared at him searchingly, expression full of concern, with a trace of panic in her eyes. "What happened?"

"The Mind Stone...experienced a sort of tremor. I felt a sharp...heat, accompanied by a flash of...fear, I believe. I'm not sure how to explain it."

"Do you know what caused it?"

"I have no idea. Nothing like it has ever happened before. It reminded me of the sensation I had when you overpowered me to leave the compound with Clint, but it was different."

"Do you want to call Tony? He might be able to figure out what caused it, or how to fix it."

Vision shook his head. "I now feel fine. There is no reason to believe it will happen again."

Wanda frowned, like she could tell he was putting on a brave face to try to reassure her, trying to downplay the fear and confusion the incident left him with. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. His arms wrapped around her in turn, accepting the comfort she offered.

He loved this simple physical connection. It felt very human. They just held each other for several minutes. The only sound was the patter of rain on the window, and occasional distant thunder. Vision focused on the contours of Wanda's form, the rhythmic way her body expanded and contracted with her breathing. At some point his fingers began tracing soft circles on her back.

She drew away from him with a sigh and looked into his eyes. Vision knew she wouldn't find even a thread of lingering fear, because it was gone.

"Thank you," he said.

She laughed lightly, incredulous that he thought he had anything to thank her for. She pressed her lips to his forehead like she could kiss away whatever hurt him, then leaned her forehead against his.

"I'm alright now. Would you like to go out to a restaurant?"

"I'm not really that hungry yet. And if we wait a while, the rain might stop."

"What would you like to do in the meantime?" he asked, trying to sound innocent.

And failing, judging by her grin. "What do you think?"

He lifted her onto his lap. His hands ran over the soft curve of her waist, then down her hip, all the while his eyes stayed fixed on hers. Her fingertips drifted along the back of his neck, his shoulders, his chest.

Vision reveled in her touch. He still found it hard to believe he had the privilege to touch Wanda, to kiss her, to make love with her, and he vowed he would never take her for granted.

She leaned in and kissed him, breathing him in as her lips nibbled at his like she was smelling and tasting him. His desire grew in response to hers. He slid his hand up to cup her breast. He loved its softness, its shape, the way her nipple hardened under his touch. After a few minutes of sharing kisses and caresses, Vision lifted off Wanda's shirt and bra. He kissed her neck as his hands returned to massaging her breasts.

She raised herself to kneeling on his lap, putting her nipples level with his lips, which immediately took advantage of the proximity. She gripped the back of his head, running her fingers through his simulated hair. His arms wrapped around her, holding her steady as he suckled her. He could tell she was close from the sound of her shallow, raspy breaths. With one arm still holding her firmly around the waist, he moved one hand between her legs. He phased his fingers through her jeans and fondled her warm, wet folds. She inhaled sharply. In moments his fingers brought her to orgasm.

He held her, gazing at her flushed face, as she caught her breath. Then she slid down, straddling him, and kissed him hungrily.

Vision lifted her to her feet. He unbuttoned and unzipped her pants. He finally drew away from kissing her to slowly push her pants to the floor, following them down without taking his eyes off her face. Kneeling in front of her, he ran his hands up and down her thighs, and his tongue between her legs.

For a few minutes, she let him administer to her, then she stepped away from him. He looked at her with concern for a moment, wondering if he had done something wrong before he caught the mischievous smile on her lips.

She twisted her fingers, drawing a mist of red light around them.

"May I?" she asked.

"Absolutely."

When he felt her power grip him and spread through him, he wasn't afraid. He trusted her completely, knowing not only that she would never intentionally hurt him, but that her control of her power was enough that she would not hurt him unintentionally either.

First she caused him to phase to his natural form, as bare as the moment he was born, then she lifted him into the air and spun him upside down.

It was not fear he felt at her control of him; it was thrill. Especially when she stepped up to him and wrapped her lips around his shaft.

He floated in the air as she sucked him. She released him from her power slowly, making sure he had time to adjust his own density to remain floating. He gripped her legs and lifted her off the floor with him. She wrapped her legs around his head, and he thrust his tongue inside her.

They floated, drifting in the middle of their hotel room, mutually pleasuring each other, lost in each other, for who knew how long until Wanda grew fatigued and her mouth released him.

He flipped upright, catching her in his arms as he did, and carried her to the bed, laying her down and tenderly kissing her bare shoulder before spooning her.

"That was...that was...great for me. How was that for you? Were you okay floating upside-down for so long?" she asked in concern.

He placed a kiss on the back of her head. "That was wonderful. I would very much like to do it again sometime."

Her lips broke into a bright smile. "Okay. Good."

He thought about bringing up his suggestion that they run away together now, but decided against it, as she might think he wasn't serious, or that he would reconsider with a clearer head.

So he said nothing, and only held her. All he could think to say was that he loved her, but he didn't want her to think that declaration a consequence of their intense lovemaking.

No, he wanted to wait for the perfect time to tell her that, ideally some quiet, peaceful moment in a beautiful place.

Those words could wait. They had time. If she accepted his proposal, they would have all the time in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end.
> 
> Thank you, everyone who read and enjoyed this story!  
> (And to everyone who read but didn't enjoy this story: Um... Why did you keep reading? You could have stopped at any time. And to anyone who enjoyed it but didn't read it: ...How?)


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